


Le Roi Des Masques

by Nimohtar



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Animagus, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, Hogwarts - Freeform, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Magic - Freeform, Minor Character Death, Multi, Polyamory, Romance, Slow Build, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-03-19 11:36:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 39,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13703670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nimohtar/pseuds/Nimohtar
Summary: AU. In a world where the old ways are all but dead and the Dark Lord rules all, two warriors find hope and new life in a young man who plays with magick just as easily as he does with their hearts.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This story has been over ten years in the making. It started as a small one shot for a friend’s birthday, and then ran away from me into this epic. I have no regrets. 
> 
> My thanks to the people who have helped me through the years, either by listening to me bounce ideas and let me pester them with questions, or helping correct the mistakes I made as my writing style grew and changed over the last ten years: **Kerttu Kuskus, Amanda Saitou, Empyreal Fantasy, Batsutousai, Shara Lunison**. I mean it when I say this story would not exist without you.
> 
>  
> 
> **Warnings: I have decided not to use the Archive Warnings, but will add tags as appropriate and warn for certain content in relevant chapters.**

 

_Le Roi Des Masques_

 

**Part One**

 

_Since their creation, the Four Kingdoms had lived in peace with one another. The Founders’ Courts kept to themselves, occupied with their separate lives and duties, ruling their kingdoms as they saw fit. The Royal Families came and went, sometimes dying out, at other times joining in marriage; they discussed and advised each other, adhered to the laws and guides they had agreed on an age ago, and had passed down from generation to generation. Thus stability was maintained._

_Each Kingdom had their own strengths and weaknesses, as one should expect from any person, culture or place. The Gryffindors were strong and brave - their fearsome warriors loved and feared in equal measure, unrivalled by any; the gold lion of the Princes was a symbol of hope and justice to all who saw it. Ravenclaw had their Queen, a tradition of matriarchy laid down by the Founder herself, their scholars and Great Library respected and admired by all, their inventions and ideas shared among the kingdoms so that all prospered. Hufflepuff, led by the Dukes, was renowned for its connection to the earth, their dedicated toiling and never-ending patience an inspiration for others. Lastly, lastly, there was Slytherin, the masters of intrigue, of politics and ambition, cultivated and encouraged by the High Lords who ruled them. It was this, perhaps, the very life of secrecy and the desire for power which would corrupt them, and in the end, bring about their downfall._

_At that particular time, though, the Kingdoms thrived, and did so for many years, the people happy and prosperous, the leaders content and safe. It remained so, until the unthinkable happened._

_The magick that had so characterised the Four Kingdoms began to die out. People began to lose their Gift._

_It was a gradual process, the loss of magick, and at first only a handful of people knew anything was happening at all. The Elder Council knew, of course, involved as they were in the education and supervision of the Gifted, and received reports from all over the kingdoms from people trying to work out what exactly was happening, and what possible solutions there were._

_After all, when people first realised what had happened, all that they could feel was confusion, fear, their minds filled with questions, but no answers. The forefront thinkers, and even the Elder Council, could offer no explanation, no aid to the helpless citizens. Lives had become so dependent upon the Gift, that even the thought of continuing on without it was unimaginable._

_Despite all efforts, the loss carried on unchecked. More and more children were born unGifted, and madness seemed to take hold of everyone. Those who still retained their magick – the very old, the very powerful, the very few – were hounded night and day, as if they could help, as if they could share what Gift they had left. Many of them went into hiding. Many others were driven to their death from fear or others’ jealousy. And still the magick disappeared._

_The Royals, strangely - miraculously - had all kept their magick, their Gift. They had always been selective in whom they married, and by choosing only the strongest, they seemed to have ensured their continued line, their children further undertaking rigorous training and education._

_Soon, only the Royals were Gifted. Reactions to this were varied across the Kingdoms. Some felt relief, at this obvious sign that magick was not wholly gone, and hope that the magick might return someday. More, alas, more felt fear and hatred. They despised the fact that their Gifts had gone, while the Royals still had theirs. They feared the power that the Royals now held. They were terrified that helpless and defenceless as the people were against these magick-wielding men and women, they would be able to do nothing if the Royals should choose to abuse their power._

_The people had a right to fear, you see. Power does corrupt, after all, and none were now as powerful as they. The future would show so much…but not yet, not yet._

_In fear, disaster, more than anyone could have imagined, befell them. The people of the Kingdoms rose up in anger and slaughtered the Royals, chasing after each and every one they could find. Against so many, against such a rage, the Royals, with all their Gifts, stood no chance. Some managed to flee, to hide themselves away, discard their wealth and pasts and begin life anew as ordinary families, lost among so many others who were doing the same._

_And so the years passed, and the Kingdoms settled into a new kind of stability, a calm after wreckage and madness. Of the hidden Royals, their lines were diluted as the generations passed, the Gifts of their blood suppressed and faded, but still there, passed on from one to another, rising strong and pure every few generations._

_One such Heir rose, a young boy, the Heir of the Serpent Founder. His name was Tom Marvolo Riddle._

_He came from the line of Gaunts, a weak family, the bastard child of an unknown man and a pitiful woman. It never ceases to amaze me that such people could sire such a strong Gifted child…but it matters little in the way of things. Tom Riddle had all the power he needed in order to fulfil his desires - and fulfil them he did!_

_Orphaned just moments after his birth, his following years were hard, I’ll not deny that, or try to underplay the consequences and effects that his life had upon him; to do so would be a disservice, and is unworthy of me. It is precisely his past that shaped him into what he would become, and in turn, led to what transpired in the future._

_Later on, after he had become a man grown, when it was important to discover all that there was to know about Tom Riddle, I began to search for anyone, anything that could tell me something of the man. The task was difficult, however, for Tom Riddle was truly Salazar’s Heir, and had covered his tracks well._

_I discovered that Tom had learned of his Gift at an early age, and though not yet understanding the full significance of such a thing, he was aware of its incongruity, and the fact that – in his view – his Gift made him superior to those around him. He spent his childhood in an orphanage, and the fact that it no longer exists now, destroyed by Tom, of course, when he had begun to shape the way of things to come, speaks greatly of how his time there must have been spent._

_He left the orphanage at fourteen, the age where children were regularly given as apprentices to Masters of Trade, in the hope that they would learn and work. Tom was apprenticed to an old man, Grindelwald by name, a writer, book-keeper, and story-teller. I believe that it was here that Tom first discovered his heritage, and the first stirrings in his thirst for power began to appear. I know not whether Grindelwald was aware of Tom’s Gift, for there were no records of the time, no indications of it, and Tom murdered the old teacher within a mere five months of beginning his apprenticeship._

_Nothing is known of how he spent the next few years of his life, but he was nearly nineteen when he arrived at Hogwarts, the home of the Council of Elders. I was the first to greet him, and I say not without a little regret that I was charmed by him, his eagerness to learn all that we could teach, his flattery and seeming affection for us, and the thrill we felt whenever he was nearby, his Gift calling to the remnants inside of us and reminding us of times past. We were old, alone in our Castle with our memories and faded dreams, and he was young, bright, powerful, and we succumbed to his kind words and gentle appreciation like dogs to their master._

_We taught him all he asked, showed him the written histories that had been collected for so long. We told him all we could of the past, the Founders, the Kingdoms._

_In the end, we told him too much._

_His betrayal was almost too hard to bear. Seeing the child we had taken in and come to love turn to us with derision in eyes gone red with the corruption of his lovely, powerful Gift; seeing his lips curl as he laughed in our faces; watching as he ignored all that we had tried to teach him about humanity, responsibility, mercy…it broke our hearts._

_As I stood there with the other Elders, watching the boy once known as Tom Marvolo Riddle walk away from us, I had never before felt as frail as I did then._

_Trust, trust is a wonderful thing: it can give hope to the lost, soothe the pains of the hurt, inspire such wonderful things, and create bonds that last for lifetimes. It is faith in your fellow man, a belief in the good of things, and something that should be treasured. Tom Riddle had destroyed it._

_With our teachings and the Dark Gift now at his disposal, his rise to power was both swift and unstoppable. Supporters flocked to him from all over the Kingdoms, the majority from his own Slytherin, who gladly declared their loyalty to the Founder’s Heir. Soon he had amassed a vast army to do his bidding; with the Death Eaters he swept over the lands like a dark shadow, striking at any who stood in his way._

_Some did try to stop him. They did not succeed. All were crushed._

_Tom Riddle became the Dark Lord Voldemort, feared by all, opposed by none. He installed himself in a castle in the heart of the Slytherin lands like a cruel god who sits upon his throne, looking down heartlessly upon the suffering and pain of his people, uncaring of their feelings or fears, just as long as they serve._

_And so it was._

_And so it is._

Absolutum dominium.

 

||excerpt from Memoirs of Albus P. W. B. Dumbledore ||

 

\- l  e   r o  i -

d  e  s

\- m  a  s  q  u  e  s -

 

The sun was setting when the two riders finally reached the small village, stars beginning to appear in scattered groups in the dark sky above them. They were as cold and as weary as the horses they rode, eager for the warmth and shelter that would hopefully be available to them at the village’s tavern. They knew that they would be unable to carry on this late, especially considering the injury that had befallen one of them during the brief skirmish earlier in the evening, when they had been ambushed just after crossing the wide waters of the River Leone. Although they had fought off their attackers - as high-ranking warriors of Slytherin, there was little chance of them not - a parting blow had managed to strike true, and they had had neither the time nor the means by which to treat it properly, choosing instead to carry on until they found somewhere to spend the night.

Severus looked over at his companion, noticing the scowl that marred his pale, well-defined face. His long blond-white hair was in disarray, a smear of blood decorating his cheek like a savage, his light grey eyes filled with pain and frustration as he steered his charger one-handed, his left arm secured by the makeshift sling that Severus had made earlier.

‘Lucius,’ Severus called softly.

Lucius picked up the questioning tone in his voice, able to understand Severus’ every little sign or meaning after such a long friendship. He nodded, the slight tension in his posture easing slightly as the two riders urged their horses on towards the building near the centre of the village. The braziers on either side the door illuminated the sign that swung gently above it, allowing them to see the name of the tavern: _The Gryffin’s Claw._

‘Stay here; I’ll see if there is room - though with the size of this village, I don’t see why there shouldn’t be,’ Severus said, dismounting quickly and tying his horse’s rein to the wooden bar intended just for that purpose, before striding towards the door and entering the inn.

The warmth hit him first, almost painful against his chilled skin, and as he let himself grow accustomed to it he glanced around the room, taking note of the light-hearted atmosphere, the people standing in groups around the large fireplace with its roaring fire, or sitting on benches, drinking, talking, some playing cards or other such games. Severus paid only a small amount of attention to the glances sent his way - enough to ensure there was no imminent threat from the customers - instead scanning the room in order to find the owner of the inn and hopefully secure them a room for the night.

He’d only taken two steps into the room when he saw a man make his way towards him, wiping his hands on the half-apron tied around his waist, his shirt-sleeves rolled up, and the buttons of his dark-brown waistcoat undone. He had thinning brown hair and a friendly face. Though his eyes were somewhat wary as they took in Severus’ all-black garb, his armour and weapons, Severus had to give him credit for the smile that he mustered up. Removing their Lord’s sign was the only precaution that he and Lucius had taken in order to preserve their anonymity, but even without it, it was not hard to guess what they were, and Severus was still an imposing figure. The inn-keeper had every right to be suspicious of him and his intentions; it likely wasn’t everyday that such people came to the village.

‘Welcome, sir, to _The Gryffin’s Claw_. Is there something I can help you with?’

Severus nodded shortly, slowly removing his gauntlets from his hands.

‘My companion and I require accommodation and stabling for our horses for a night, if you have it,’ Severus said, and after a brief hesitation added, ‘perhaps for longer, if our business necessitates.’

The innkeeper nodded happily. ‘Of course, of course. Come - I need to fill it in my ledger.’ He gestured towards a small counter to one side a little away from the main bar - before moving towards it, Severus following along behind.

‘I’m afraid you caught us at a busy time - autumn festival coming up - but we’ve not many guests staying at the moment, so we should be able to fit you fine enough.’ The man kept up a steady stream of conversation as he bent over behind the counter in order to draw out a large leather-bound book, and though Severus usually detested idle chatter, he found that he did not mind the man’s soft-spoken words. ‘Dinner and breakfast are included in the price of the rooms, though lunch is separate, I’m afraid, but can be bought from the barroom down here. Breakfast is served two hours past dawn, and lunch is at midday. Is that acceptable?’

Severus nodded. ‘If that is the case, I’d ask for a tray to be brought up to us this evening.’

‘Very well, sir. Do you require one or two rooms?’

‘Only one will be needed,’ Severus answered smoothly, black eyes half-daring the innkeeper to comment when he looked up from writing in his book, but the man refused to say anything, instead going back to quickly and efficiently filling in the appropriate notes.

‘One room then, and the use of the stables - that’ll be two galleons, and seven sickles. What name shall I put you under?’

‘Tobias,’ Severus said shortly, reaching for the leather pouch of coins attached to his belt, and handing over the right amount of money.

‘I’ll send someone down for your horses straight away - he’s very good and will care for them well, I assure you,’ the innkeeper said as he  tucked the coins away into a locked draw.

‘Thank you,’ Severus replied.

The innkeeper smiled. ‘Is there anything else you might need?’

‘Yes. I would ask for a bowl of hot water and some strips of linen to be brought up to our room, shortly,’ Severus said, accepting the iron key the inn-keeper handed over, and ignoring the slight widening of the man’s eyes. ‘If you would tell me where to find my room, I shall fetch my companion and our belongings.’

‘Upstairs on the first floor, second door to the right.’ He hesitated. ‘If your friend is injured -’

‘I will care for him,’ Severus replied flatly.

The innkeeper nodded slowly. ‘I’ll go arrange for your dinner and other items.’

‘If you would.’

Severus watched the inn-keeper walk towards a dark-skinned serving girl and talk quietly to her for a moment, before he spun on his heel and made his way back outside, finding Lucius already dismounted and both their belongings in a pile on the ground. At his raised eyebrow, Lucius smirked, already reaching for his bags.

‘You wouldn’t have taken half so long if you weren’t arranging for rooms.’ He shrugged his broad shoulders and gifted the dark-haired man with a sharp smile. ‘Besides, I knew that you would find us room - even if you had to eject some other guests.’

Severus snorted softly, but did not deny it.

A small boy came scurrying out of the door, coming to an abrupt halt in front of them. He barely reached Severus’ chest; there was no way he’d be able to handle Lucius’ temperamental stallion and his own horse, no less vicious for being a gelding.

Severus’ lip curled slightly. ‘I do hope you’re not the one coming to care for our horses.’

The boy quirked a grin, clearly unfazed, and shook his head. ‘Nossir’, he slurred his reply into one word, ‘that’d be Harry. He’ll be down shortly - I’m just here to watch them until he comes.’

Severus hummed under his breath, somewhat mollified. He went to pick up his own bags, briefly contemplating whether or not to take their horses’ tack with them before deciding against it, knowing that no one would dare steal or damage it for fear of retribution. He stood, hefting the weight of his saddlebags. He took one of Lucius’ also, knowing the blond would not be able to carry the weight with his injured arm. With that, the two men quickly made their way inside once more, bypassing the barroom and its occupants and making for the stairs which would take them to their room.

Once inside, Severus glanced around, noting that it wasn’t as small as he had expected, though only just. The furniture was minimal: only a bed - one that was large enough for the two tall, well-developed men, he was grateful to see - a table, a chair and a small chest of drawers with a mirror on top, but everything was clean and in relatively good condition. Although there was no fire, the room was not cold - warmed, Severus presumed, by the heat from the barroom just below them.

Severus placed his bags on the floor just beside the table, before turning to his friend and lover, who was having some difficulty doing the same. So much movement had agitated Lucius’ shoulder, causing him to frown in pain.

‘Lucius, get out of that armour and let me see that wound,’ Severus ordered, briskly rummaging through his belongings in search of the leather case of healing implements he always carried with him. They’d get patching Lucius up out of the way before they enjoyed their dinner and retired for the night. He knew both of them could do with a good night’s rest.

Lucius nodded and reached over his shoulder one-handed, fingers scrabbling for the straps that would release the black-coloured metal of his armour, before a sharp stabbing pain caused him to grunt and abandon his attempt. With a low, frustrated growl he dropped onto the single chair the room held, the glare in his eyes warning Severus not to comment on his failure.

With an amused smirk he couldn’t wholly suppress, Severus straightened from his position kneeling on the floor and made his way over to Lucius. Placing the bag gently on the table beside Lucius’ chair, Severus deftly unclasped the armour to reveal the black undershirt, damp with sweat and soaked with blood across one shoulder, the stain spreading down the arm. Lifting the armour up and away, he let it fall to the side with a dull clatter of metal on wood, before removing the shirt also and leaning forward over his friend in order to get a closer look at the wound.

‘It’s not too deep, you’ll be relieved to hear; the bleeding has already stopped. When the water I asked the innkeeper to have brought up arrives, I’ll wash the wound, sew it up, and put some poultice on it.’

Lucius nodded, his mouth tightening slightly. ‘It shouldn’t have happened in the first place.’

‘Hmm,’ Severus agreed, lightly running his long fingers across the edges of the wound, making sure he had missed nothing in his first glance. Being a warrior himself, combined with his considerable skill as a healer and his intimate knowledge of his friend’s body and its capabilities, he was sure his initial assessment was correct, but experience had taught him that it never hurt to be absolutely certain. Nodding to himself, he straightened and turned to his satchel, rummaging through it for the items he knew he would need. ‘Be that as it may, Lucius, it did happen, and it would be well for us to find out why - and it would do well for you to keep pressure on that wound.’

Lucius sighed softly in annoyance but complied, placing his palm over the wound; at the same time he took a deep breath and expelled it slowly, relaxing muscles tensed from anger.

‘We knew this task wasn’t going to be the easiest,’ Severus continued, ‘what with the little amount of information granted to us and the nature of the task itself. Two Death Eaters in the heart of Gryffindor lands was bound to attract trouble, no matter that we’re keeping a low profile. You’re lucky they were neither skilled, nor determined to do us that much harm. I suspect they merely wanted to show us we were...less than welcome here.’ His tone was mocking.

‘Well they certainly managed that,’ Lucius said, still disgruntled by the ambush.

Humming in response to his friend’s words, Severus set about removing his own armour, stretching out the kinks in his back garnered from a long day’s ride and the earlier skirmish. He could well understand Lucius’ anger - directed more to himself than anyone else.

From an early age Slytherins learned the skills necessary in order to survive in a land that thrived on intrigue and power, status and connections. They learned how to lie, how to manipulate, how to safeguard themselves from attacks - physical, and the less obvious political or social attacks that had so characterised the Slytherin Court for centuries. They learned wariness, ruthlessness, how to exploit weakness and turn their own faults into strengths. For Lucius, the threats increased tenfold: as the Commander of the Dark Lord’s Death Eater Armies, his position was coveted by many, people who would stop at nothing to gain their desire. Due to his precarious position, his intelligence was remarkable, his skills in war nearly incomparable, honed as they were from time and need. The fact that he had found himself unprepared for a small rabble - albeit in Gryffindor lands - had obviously shaken him, and if there was anything Lucius hated, it was being bested.

‘In any case, you were not fatally wounded, and at least we now know to be wary of another attack. We’re getting closer to the place where the Hollow is meant to reside - for all that the locals denied any knowledge of it when asked before, I suspect that some of them _do,_ in fact, know or suspect what it is we are after,’ Severus said. ‘We can begin asking around tomorrow. It will have the added benefit of giving your shoulder enough time to rest, and me a few nights _not_ spent sleeping on cold ground out in the open.’

Severus heard Lucius chuckle, knowing well Severus’ unconcealed dislike for discomfort - an unfortunate trait in a soldier, but one that was overlooked in favour of the knowledge he brought to the Death Eaters. The blond’s anger had faded at last, and Severus could see his eyes beginning to wander around the small room.

‘The last few villages we passed through were rather unhelpful, to say the least: what makes you think this one will be any different?’

‘I don’t know.’ Severus turned to look out of the window, one hand resting gently on the sill, his eyes drawn by the scene before him: their room was at the front of _The Gryffin’s Claw_ , their window overlooking the wide street with its rows of cottages, a sprinkling of lights appearing now that dusk approached. There were trees in the distance, a dark silhouette against the orange sky. Just below, he could see a group of men - young men, he surmised, what with the way they were laughing and joking with each other, now and again breaking into a scuffle on their way to the inn. They passed from his line of sight, but he could still hear the bang of the door closing, and the sudden increase in noise below his feet, their loud voices joining with the soft murmur from the main tavern room. Their horses were no longer outside either, Severus surmising they’d been taken away.

He was pulled away from his reverie of the village by a brusque knock on the door. Moving his hand to grip the hilt of the sword still at his waist and turning to face the door he called ‘Yes?’

‘I have the water and bandages you requested, sir, and dinner,’ a voice replied, muffled slightly by the door.

‘Very well - come in,’ Severus ordered.

He didn’t relax his grip until the door opened and he could see the young man on the other side; he held a tray in each hand - one covered with plates, the other supporting a small basin filled with water, next to it some clean white towels.

Severus glanced over the young man in swift appraisal, noting the broad well-defined chest of someone used to hard work, sun-kissed skin and messy black hair, and last of all, unusual deep, green eyes. Overall, he was a rather attractive individual, and not a common sight in backwater taverns such as this.  

‘Where do you want me to put it?’ the boy asked.

At his words, Severus nodded towards the table next to Lucius. ‘Over there will be fine.’

The boy nodded and crossed the room with ease and confidence - none of the subservience or hesitation usually inspired by Death Eaters shown if he felt it. He rested both trays on the table while he unloaded their contents, before picking them up once more - his every move watched closely by the blond man sitting next to him. He turned to Severus.

‘Is there anything else you need?’

‘No, you may leave,’ Severus dismissed him.

The man nodded and quickly made his way out of the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. Neither Severus nor Lucius said a word or made a move until the door was firmly closed and they could hear the man’s footsteps start down the corridor.

Lucius let out a low whistle, and Severus turned to him with an arched brow, moving towards the bowl of water and efficiently wetting the cloth in order to wash away the dried blood on Lucius’ shoulder. He could see the spark of interest that had lighted the blond’s eyes on seeing the green-eyed serving boy, and recognised the slow grin that was stretching Lucius’ lips.

‘My, my Severus. I have a sudden feeling that the short while we’ll be here won’t turn out to be so dismal after all.’ The gaze levelled at the door where the young man had gone through was contemplative.

Severus snorted. ‘I’m sure.’ His tone grew more serious. ‘Now: hold still so I can sew up this wound.’

‘You’d better be more gentle than last time,’ Lucius demanded with a scowl.

Severus’ chuckle was less than reassuring. ‘But Lucius, I do so like to make you squirm.’

 

\- l  e   r o  i -

d  e  s

\- m  a  s  q  u  e  s -

 

Harry jumped the last few steps of the stairs, landing with a dull thud on the wooden flooring of the hallway, passing through the wide doorway that led to the main barroom, where he could hear the loud talking and hearty laughter of the _Claw’s_ patrons. He skirted around the various people milling around the room, waving to a group of friends sitting and drinking in the far corner, and passing Padma on her way to the kitchen with a platter stacked with empty plates. He finally made it to the bar, depositing his own tray on the side as he ducked under the hatch and took his place behind the thick wooden structure, just in time to receive an order from one of the men who had entered the inn.

As he was pouring the ale into a glass tankard, Harry glanced over the barroom, not surprised on seeing it so busy this time of year, when the people of the village liked to gather together before the huge roaring fire that warmed the room pleasantly; it was a welcome relief to the chill that was steadily descending as winter drew closer. The busyness was the reason why Harry was now serving behind the bar as opposed to keeping to the stables as he normally would. He smiled as he handed over the drink and accepted the customer’s money, slipping it into the leather pouch at his waist.

‘Enjoy your evening,’ he said pleasantly, as the man picked up his ale and turned away to find a seat at one of the tables around the room.

‘Harry - hey - hand me that glass over there.’

Harry turned his attention to the woman addressing him, and reached for the item she had asked for, handing it over with a small grin. Angelina Johnson was only slightly older than he was, with an attractive face and long dark hair. The daughter of one of the village’s farmers, she was a tall, tough woman, who took no nonsense from those she served while working in the bar. As a child, she’d always joined in the boys’ games, preferring them to the apparently frivolous pursuits favoured by the other girls, and had always been a good friend to Harry.

A short while later when there was a lull in their work and the two of them were occupying themselves with cleaning the counter and rearranging some of the used glasses, Angelina turned to him.

‘Harry - Missus ‘Beth was asking for you earlier - wanted you to go see her in the kitchens as soon as possible.’

Harry nodded, putting down the cups he had been holding. ‘You can manage?’

‘Of course!’ Angelina grinned, swatting him playfully with the towel in her hands, as he hurriedly moved away, under the hatch and towards the archway.

Going along the corridor, he started down the small number of stone steps that led him to the kitchens - his mother’s domain, just as the barroom was his father’s.

Harry entered the kitchen and looked around the square, basement-like room, with its long wooden table in the centre, and various counters and stoves lining the walls. A huge fireplace took up a large part of the left wall, and Harry could see the remains of a roast pig still on the spit. A door leading to the back courtyard and the stables beyond was in the far right corner. He could see Padma washing a stack of dishes in the large stone sink to one side, while her sister Parvati was tending to a bubbling pot of stew. His mother, meanwhile, had her back to him, her curly brown hair braided and pinned up, and was making the final preparations on one of her creations.

His lack of blood relation to the woman who had found him abandoned as a baby had never been kept a secret - either from him, or others in the village which had been his home for as long as he could remember. For all they’d already had a daughter, he had been welcomed into heart and home, never in doubt that he was cherished by those he called his parents - for if there was one thing that Robert and Elizabeth Granger valued, it was the importance of family. They’d taken him in, raised him and loved him; they’d been a constant source of strength throughout his life, offering acceptance and freedom no matter what they had been faced with - a godsend, as it happened, with the unexpected tragedy and revelations that had befallen them.

Smiling mischievously, Harry slowly crept towards his mother, wrapping his strong arms around her still-slim waist and lifting her easily into the air. She let out a cry of surprise, her hands gripping his forearms. He settled her down on her feet once more, taking the opportunity to grab one of the biscuits from the tray in front of him, and popping it in his mouth.

The affectionately nicknamed “Missus ‘Beth”  turned to him, attempting to conceal the amusement on her face. Though her face was lined with age, her smile was still beautiful, her honey-coloured eyes affectionate as they looked up at him from her much smaller height.

‘Harry Granger - how many times do I have to tell you not to sneak up on me like that? You have no idea what I could have been holding!’ She paused, narrowing her eyes. ‘Do you hear me?!’

Harry hummed in agreement, quickly reaching out to snag another biscuit, sending his mother his most innocent look.

She sighed in fond exasperation, smiling at his well-known antics. ‘You never change.’

Grinning, Harry leaned down and placed a swift kiss on her cheek. ‘You wouldn’t have me any other way.’

Elizabeth laughed. ‘No, I suppose I wouldn’t.’

Harry straightened, satisfied that he’d done his filial duty of being annoying and making his mother laugh. ‘Now, what was it you wanted to see me about?’

Elizabeth’s smile faded, and she glanced quickly towards the Patil twins, addressing them quickly. ‘Padma, why don’t you leave that for now, take a break and finish it later. You too Parvati, the stew can be left for a few minutes.’

The two girls sent curious glances in Harry’s direction, but did as they were bid, leaving their tasks and making their way out of the kitchen, shutting the door behind them.

Harry turned back to his mother, feeling slightly ill at ease now. ‘What is it?’ he asked worriedly.

‘It’s about those two men who came tonight,’ Elizabeth said quietly, frowning slightly. ‘I don’t want you being around them.’

Harry relaxed at once, relieved it had been nothing more serious. This particular request had often been asked of him over the years - his parents’ way of protecting him against anyone who might cause him trouble. It had also been one of the reasons behind their decision to let Harry work in the stables as opposed to the barroom, except on nights like tonight when he was particularly needed.

‘Of course,’ Harry acquiesced at once. ‘You know the only reason I took the tray up tonight was because both Padma and Parvati were busy with other things.’ And his own curiosity, of course, but he deliberately didn’t mention that to his mother.

Elizabeth nodded, her worried look easing slightly, as if she had expected him to argue with her - not a wholly unbelievable thought, since Harry was known for his stubbornness and wilful thinking, especially where warriors were concerned.

‘Your father said that he thought they might be Death Eaters -’

‘They are,’ Harry interrupted, bringing to mind the picture of the half-clothed blond in the room upstairs. ‘One of them had the Mark on his arm.’

Elizabeth’s expression remained unhappy. ‘That just makes it worse.’ She sighed. ‘There’s something else.’

‘What?’ Harry asked apprehensively.

‘Padma overheard some people talking - one of the Creevy brothers I think it was - about a rumour that two warriors dressed in black have been travelling through Gryffindor lands, asking questions in each village they pass through - about the Gryffindor Royals and Godric’s Hollow.’

Harry nodded, his mouth tight. Although the name of Godric’s Hollow was virtually unknown to most - a myth about the place where the Gryffindor Royals had once resided in a time when magick had still existed throughout the Four Kingdoms - to a select few, however, it was also very near to the place where the infamous Order of the Phoenix had sequestered themselves, the rebel group trying to fight against the Dark Lord’s tyranny. Although not a member himself - being who he was, Harry had long since made a promise to stay as far away from politics as he could - he knew of several people in his village, and those surrounding it, who had connections to the Order.

‘Who was he talking to?’

‘Dean Thomas, Anthony Goldstein and that troublesome Smith boy, as well as a few others,’ Elizabeth told him, knowing just as well as he the significance of that.

‘Founder damn it,’ Harry muttered under his breath, lifting a hand to rub at his suddenly pounding head. Apart from the Creevey brothers - who were more likely to have been dragged or even threatened into joining in with whatever had been proposed rather than willingly coming up with the idea themselves - that particular group of boys were known for their rash behaviour throughout the nearby villages. They were all young and agile, cocky too - and unfortunately, they all had a desire to join the Order, which meant that they would do all that they could to prove themselves worthy.

 _And there are two Death Eaters right here in the village_ , Harry thought, taking a deep breath. _Just great._

Sighing, Harry looked at his mother once more, knowing what was expected of him. ‘I’ll talk to them, try to make them understand that if they start anything, they might bring trouble to the village. Voldemort doesn’t take kindly to rebellion.’

‘Thank you, Harry.’

There was a hesitant knock on the door, and Parvati’s face peered around the edge..

‘’m sorry t’ disturb you, Missus ‘Beth, but Mister Tom be wanting his dinner - and Mister Robert says that he needs more wood for the fire.’

Elizabeth stepped away from Harry, immediately turning to grab a plate and a walking over to the stew, stirring it briskly. ‘Tell him right away, Parvati dear; I didn’t realise we’d taken so long.’

As Parvati and Padma returned to the kitchen to take up their work again, Harry made his way over to the back door, intending to gather some of the wood from the stockpile in one of the stable rooms.

‘Harry!’ Elizabeth called, and he glanced back at her. ‘Take care, love.’

He smiled briefly, and left the kitchen, thinking idly on his mother’s words.

Hedwig’s Nest had always been safe from the self-styled Dark Lord’s touch; it was one of the reasons the Grangers had settled there. Too far north in Gryffindor lands and too unimportant, it was a rare day that their normal way of life was interrupted, for which Harry and his family had always been grateful.

Once his Gift of magick had made itself known and his true identity had been unquestionably revealed, the importance of avoiding undue attention had become paramount, his life and that of his family all of a sudden at risk.

Rumours of Voldemort’s dealings with the other Kingdoms were common: tales of imprisonment, torture, ruthlessness and depravity; how much of it was true, Harry couldn’t begin to say, but he’d seen the touches of the Dark Lord’s rule in the towns nearby, whenever he’d visited for markets and trade.

Those marked as Death Eaters were uncommon in the outreaches;  hired mercenaries were far more likely to be present. They claimed it was to maintain order, but in reality it seemed like just an excuse to abuse power.

The fact there were Death Eaters here now, in his village, in his home, did not sit well with him.

Stepping into the main room, he saw Anthony and Zacharias seated at a table, laughing and drinking along with some of the other younger men of the village. They were high in energy tonight, Harry could see it in their flushed faces and bright eyes, and it made him uneasy.

Taking position beside Angelina, Harry nodded in their direction. ‘What has them so worked up?’

Angelina grimaced, clearly unimpressed, leaning her elbows on the counter. ‘Don’t know, but I’m sure it’s not good news.’

‘Hmm,’ Harry agreed, then turned to greet another customer.

Harry was kept busy on the bar for another hour or so, before finally being released to make his final checks on the stables. He paid extra care to the two horses that had come in that night, acknowledging and respecting the fine-bred steeds, even if he felt unsure of their masters. He made sure they had extra hay and water, and patted his own horse goodnight before locking up.

As he was exiting the stables, he caught sight of Zacharias again, leaving the tavern on his own and meandering slowly towards home. Jaw firming slightly, Harry went towards him, intending to make good his promise to his mother.

He caught up with him at the side of Old Figg’s house. ‘Zac, I’d like a word, please.’

Zac turned round, not looking particularly happy to see Harry, but not unwelcome either. They’d grown up with each other and even if they’d never become friends, in such a small village, loyalty was expected. ‘What do you want?’

Harry was attempting to figure out the best way to word his questions, when he caught sight of Zac’s arm, where small flecks of blood were starting to show through the white bandage wrapped around his forearm. Harry’s eyes narrowed.

‘How’d you injure yourself?’

Zac’s expression immediately became guarded, his already sharp face becoming more so. ‘Accident while chopping firewood,’ he replied, his tone daring Harry to challenge him on it.

Harry wasted no time in doing just that. ‘It wouldn’t have something to do with the injury that warrior was sporting?’ he asked suspiciously, even though he knew that asking was pointless; he already knew the answer.

Zacharias smirked and adopted a tone of utmost innocence. ‘I don’t know what you mean, Harry.’

Harry stepped forward, and Zac’s smirk dropped off his face and he tried to take a step back, his eyes showing alarm when he hit into the side of the house. He was smaller than Harry, and thin, and looked suddenly uncomfortable. He attempted to cover it with bravado, sticking out his chin and squaring his shoulders.

‘You don’t scare me.’

Harry gave a lopsided smile, but there was nothing friendly about it now. ‘I’m warning you, Zacharias. You and your friends are playing a dangerous game, with dangerous people, and you have no idea what kind of trouble you could bring down on yourselves – on this village.’ He stepped back. ‘Stay away from those men,’ he gave a final warning, and turned back to home.

‘We’re at war, Harry, even if you don’t want to admit it,’ Zac called from behind him. ‘And you won’t be able to stay out of it forever!’

Harry refused to look back. He doubted his words would have any effect; as was often the case, stubbornness and pride would always win out, and it would only be a harsh lesson of life that might put a stop to Zacharias’ foolishness.

He sighed.

He could only hope the Death Eaters’ visit would be brief, and normality could return to Hedwig’s Nest – and his life.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At the moment I have 32 completed chapters of this story which ~~only require a bit of editing~~ require way more editing than I initially thought, but I'm working at a good pace, so posts shouldn't be too far apart until I catch up with myself! And then there's about two unwritten chapters to finish the story.
> 
> Next chapter! Lucius' seduction doesn't quite go to plan, and the Death Eaters encounter something unusual.


	2. Chapter 2

_ Le Roi Des Masques _

 

**Part Two**

  
D espite the healing dittany Severus had placed on the wound in his shoulder, finding a position in which to comfortably sleep was near impossible. Lucius couldn’t fault the amenities, for the bed was a decent size, the bedding clean and comfortable, and the room cosily warm with no pesky drafts to disturb him. Still, discomfort plagued him and his unsettled night was finally called to a halt near dawn after being warned for the tenth time in as many minutes to cease his restlessness under the threat of dismemberment, at which point he decided to concede the bed to Severus. 

After rinsing his face in the bowl of water still left from the night before, Lucius dressed as silently as he could in simple black breeches, shirt and undercoat; forgoing his sword in favour of a less conspicuous dagger tucked into his leather boot, he made his way out of the room and down the stairs. 

Reaching the main barroom, Lucius looked around for anything that might keep him entertained until Severus woke and they could begin making plans for the day. With a small sigh, he realised that it was far too early for breakfast, and even though he was only mildly hungry it would have at least been something to do. It would also have given him the opportunity to perhaps see the serving boy that had caught his attention again, but glancing around, Lucius could find no one. Thinking that he might be able to find someone in the kitchens, the blond meandered across the room in that direction.

He found the kitchen to be just as deserted as upstairs, and shrugging mildly, he snagged an apple from the basket of fruit sitting on one of the counters before heading to turn back. He stopped short on seeing a door in the far corner, which had until then escaped his notice. Curiosity drove him to the door, and opening it easily he slipped through to find himself in a small grassy courtyard, surrounded by buildings on each side. To his right was a huge door, presumably to allow the horses in and out. It was simple, a far cry from the luxurious stables and cobbled courtyards that Lucius had grown up with, but as he wandered through the buildings, finally locating the stalls where the horses were kept, he had to be impressed by the care that had been taken with both buildings and animals. The stalls were clean and filled with sweet-smelling hay, the water buckets in each stall full. There were more horses than he had expected; he had seen no other guests, but supposed there might be.

Hearing a loud whicker from close by, Lucius smiled as he spotted his own stallion in one of the stalls, his neck stretched out over the stall door, his head bobbing up and down slightly when Lucius started walking towards him. Taking the knife from his boot, Lucius began to cut thick slices from the apple he was still carrying, offering them to Charon piece by piece. He rubbed his hand over the roan’s glossy grey flanks, across its neck and nose, looking closely to see whether he had been cared for. Satisfied with his condition, he gave the horse a last pat to his neck and wandered onwards, glancing around again. To the side of the stall, he could see his tack hanging neatly, shined to brightness. He passed by Thanatos, Severus’ black gelding, and offered him some apple also which after a brief snort the horse accepted, just as contrary as his rider. Smiling, Lucius performed a cursory check on the animal, since having seen the stables and his own mount, he was confident that their animals would receive decent treatment here.

He was still stroking Thanatos’ dark nose when he heard a voice in the courtyard, followed by the clatter of hooves on flagstones as someone entered the stables. His pale eyebrows rose on seeing the serving-boy from yesterday enter the stables, leading behind him a tall horse, dark bay but for a an irregular blaze of white across its nose vaguely resembling a lightning bolt. His hair was more ruffled than usual, his face flushed from the ride and the chilly air, his green eyes sparkling. He stopped short on seeing Lucius, however, his body immediately tensing in wariness, before with visible effort he smoothed out his features to polite blankness.

‘Can I help you?’ The boy questioned somewhat sharply. ‘The stables are out of bounds to guests.’

He moved further inside and led the horse to an alcove where there were combs and brushes sitting in neat rows on a table. His poise and movement spoke of something more than a mere peasant - something which intrigued Lucius greatly. The horse too bore no saddle, a testament to the boy’s skill and confidence with handling horses, and Lucius quickly surmised that his serving-boy was in fact the person in charge of the stables he had so admired. Harry, the small boy had said last night. 

_ Things just get better and better _ , he thought to himself as he strolled away from Severus’ horse and towards the boy, eyes skimming over the long legs and trim waist, the broad shoulders and down the well-muscled arms to the hands which were quickly brushing away the sweat on the horse. The boy never turned his back to Lucius.

‘My mistake. I merely wished to occupy my time before breakfast, and decided that visiting my horse would be a suitable choice.’ Lucius smiled his most charming smile, one that had garnered the interests of many men and women in the Slytherin Court, in an attempt to put the young man at ease and hopefully further their acquaintance. He was a little put out, then, when there was not even a modicum of change in the boy’s demeanour.

‘As you can see, your horse is being well-cared for,’ the man said evenly: polite, but uninterested in continuing the conversation. 

Lucius had faced dislike from Gryffindors almost on principle, and it was almost expected by now - but this, there was something...personal about it. He covered his scrutiny with another smile, taking a further step closer to Harry and laying one hand on the wall to his right.

‘So it’s you who takes care of the stables here?’ Lucius feigned surprise. ‘You have my admiration… Harry, is it?’

Harry ignored the query regarding his name, but answered the first question. ‘Yes, I care for the stables here. In fact, I have work to do now, so if you don’t mind, I’d appreciate that you leave.’ He gave a pointed look towards the exit, but Lucius wasn’t about to be driven away so easily.

‘You are skilled at your work then, and I admire that,’ Lucius complimented, dropping the tone of his voice to something far more intimate than expected for such a mundane conversation. ‘I’ve noticed a few other things about you to be admired.’

Momentary surprise brushed Harry’s features and his brow furrowed in confusion. 

‘I… thank you, I think,’ he answered slowly, as if unsure what the acceptable response to such a statement would be. It appeared to Lucius that part of him understood Lucius’ intentions, but he did not fully believe them. It just served to increase his intrigue, and no one had ever said he wasn’t persistent.

He stepped forward again, casually, one hand rising to trail over the horse’s flanks, the other sliding along the top of the stall, coming to rest next to Harry.

Harry took a quick glance at Lucius’ hand near to him on the stall wall, gaze moving swiftly to the horse beside him and then back to Lucius’ face; the realisation he was being caged in was obvious in the quick breath he took and the way his chin lifted, but he did nothing about it yet.

Lucius admired his courage, and gave a small satisfied smile.

‘It’s not often I come across a…delightful gem such as yourself out in the backwaters of the Kingdoms,’ Lucius continued, his gaze fixed on the boy’s ridiculously green eyes. ‘It would please me to spend some more time with you. In fact, I am very sure we could please each other.’ He let his tongue curl over the words, his offer obvious.

He was close enough to touch if he wished, and so he did, his right hand lifting from the stall wall to brush gently up Harry’s arm. 

He wasn’t expecting the boy’s swiftness: it was with something akin to astonishment that he saw the boy’s hand grasp his wrist and hold it away from himself.

‘I think it’s time for you to leave,’ Harry said coldly, but his voice wasn’t quite steady. 

Lucius’ eyes narrowed, his desire waning as anger began to replace it. Nobody manhandled him,  _ not ever _ .

‘Release my hand, boy, before you have cause to regret it.’ His voice was low, but with deadly warning.

The boy’s gaze remained challenging, as if he were contemplating whether or not to follow Lucius’ request. Eventually, he released Lucius’ arm and stepped away.

Lucius’ retaliation was immediate. His hand shot out to grip the neck of Harry’s shirt and he slammed him against the wall behind him, pressing close and pinning him there with his body. The horse beside them whickered in distress but neither man paid it mind, both too busy glaring at the other.

‘Your arrogance is astounding,’ Lucius told him, ‘laying hands on  _ me _ …’

Harry let out a bark of laughter, seemingly unfazed by his current position; there was some wariness there, yes, but not nearly enough remorse for Lucius’ liking. ‘You come into  _ my  _ home, try to accost  _ me _ , and then you have the gall to berate me for touching you… oh, that’s big,’ he scoffed.

‘Do you even know who I am?’ Lucius bit out.

‘Not your name,’ Harry admitted, with a tone that implied it didn’t have much relevance, ‘but I know you’re a Death Eater.’

‘Not just  _ any _ Death Eater,’ Lucius corrected, ‘but Lord Lucius Malfoy, of the House of Malfoys, and I am  _ Commander _ of the Death Eaters.’ He didn’t expect the name to have such great meaning to Harry, not like the awe and fear he could inspire in the Death Eater ranks or the Dark Lord’s followers, but the title of Commander was one that had spread even this far into Gryffindor – the Dark Lord had made sure of it.

Harry’s lip curled scornfully. ‘A lackey to a Dark Lord is still that, no matter what fancy title you choose to give it.’

Lucius’ anger at the easy dismissal was matched only by his astonishment at such brazenness. ‘You owe me an apology.’ 

‘I think not.’ Harry’s eyes gleamed, and Lucius’ hand began to tingle where he gripped the boy’s shirt.

‘You –‘

‘ _ Harry! _ ’

Both men turned their heads to look at the door to the stables, where a dark-skinned girl stood with wide brown eyes, watching them in fear and shock. Lucius’ anger dimmed, his hand beginning to relax its hold on the young man’s shirt. Before he moved away completely, he couldn’t resist leaning closer, his mouth brushing Harry’s ear.

‘This is far from over,’ he whispered, and let go at last, stepping back. With one last glance at Harry’s still furious expression and the girl’s worried one, he strode out of the stables, a flick of his head sending his blond hair falling into place. Now that the pair’s little confrontation was over and the emotions that had been coursing through his body had faded somewhat, he could feel the angry throbbing of his shoulder, protesting the strain it had endured. Gritting his teeth, Lucius headed back to his room, and the pain reliever he knew Severus would give him.

 

\- l  e r o  i -

d  e s

\- m  a s q  u e s -

 

The good thing about living and working in the stables, Harry had long since realised, was that when he wanted the peace and isolation of his rooms, they weren’t far away. They also didn’t require him to go past overly curious people who would delay his retreat with pointless questions.

After brushing off Parvati’s frantic and near-hysterical questions and sending her back to the kitchens with a promise not to tell anyone what she had seen - something he knew was unlikely to happen, but was worth an attempt anyway - he’d quickly settled Raiden in his stall and finished feeding and watering the remaining horses, deciding that exercising them could wait until later. The majority of the time there were very few horses in the stables - Harry’s Raiden, his father’s mare, sometimes a few more, if people came visiting or guests were staying at the inn. It was Harry’s job to care for them all, but experience made his tasks relatively easy, and so his time was largely his own.  

Still fuming, Harry bounded up the stairs to the attic his father had converted into a large bedroom for him when they had decided that having his own space would help his control of his Gift, as well as reduce the risk of exposure or accidents that might occur if he stayed in the main family quarters. Though upset at first at what he’d thought was an effort to remove him from the family, over time Harry had seen the benefits of his stable rooms, and now he couldn’t imagine living anywhere other than the long room with low sloping walls and the sweet smell of hay wafting upwards from the barn below. There were only a few windows dotted here and there along the room, and a large iron heater to warm the space - which admittedly, wasn’t used that often, as Harry’s Gift was far more effective, not to mention safer. His bed was at the far end of the room; on either side of it fur pelts from his own hunting efforts covered the wooden boards. Small items littered the long beams that crossed part of the attic room -  favoured childhood toys and books, a knickknack or two he’d received as a gift. Two large trunks held the majority of his possessions: one at the foot of his bed with all of his clothes, the other tucked underneath it, where his more personal items were kept - the few books on the Gryffindor royals he had managed to procure, the blanket that had been left with him as a child, and other such trinkets.

Walking across the room, he dropped wearily onto the bed with a sigh, covering his face with his hands. He knew he’d been stupid dealing with the Death Eater in that way and letting his anger and irritation get the better of him. He should have been careful to remain invisible, to divert interest from himself, to not do anything that would cause trouble to him and his family. Instead -  _ instead _ \- seeing the blond soldier in the stables -  _ his _ domain - all his intentions had withered away, and he’d threatened and fought and made himself the target of the man’s ire! He was disgusted with himself, and disgusted with the man who’d driven him into this position.

He’d noted the man’s interest in him when he’d first brought up the trays, and he’d told himself to be wary of it, but he hadn’t expected to be propositioned in such a way. It wasn’t that Harry was a stranger to desire; he was no innocent virgin - Angelina had happily taken care of that for him - but his secrets had meant the need for caution, and he’d not gone farther than the physical - had experienced none of the love and romance that was still so visible between his parents.

But, he thought angrily, dropping his hands to either side of him and frowning deeply at the wooden boards above his head, just because he was young and considered of lower birth, it didn’t mean he was willing to adhere to the whims of a self-obsessed noble who wanted a body to warm his bed for a few nights - especially since Harry knew damn well he was already sharing his room with that black-haired warrior. He’d seen the way the two of them interacted, and the closeness and comfortableness were clear signs that there was something more to them than simply friendship. 

His hands clenched into fists as his thoughts reverted once more to the blond. Very few nobles chose to journey through Hedwig’s Nest, the village being too far from the most popular towns to garner their interest, but of the ones who  _ had _ ventured into  _ The Gryffin’s Claw, _ Lucius had to be the most despicable noble Harry had ever met. Obviously used to having everything his greedy little heart desired - lovers included - he saw no need for anything to change once he had left his own home and court, thinking -  _ expecting  _ even - that everyone would be just as honoured to pander to his whims here as they were there.

Well. Harry would just have to show him that not everyone believed Death Eaters - Lucius - to be as superior as they themselves obviously thought!

He’d been taken by surprise that day, still unsettled by his argument earlier that morning with Dean Thomas and Anthony Goldstein about the very selfsame subject as his thoughts, which had gone much the same way as his talk with Zacharias the night before. He vowed now though that he would give the blond no more chances to corner him. Harry was Gifted, his magick giving him added strength and tricks which he could use to his advantage, and he was prepared to use every power he possessed in order to stay as far away from the Death Eater until he left.

Resolved, Harry sat up and swung his legs off the bed. Kneeling down in front of the trunk at the foot of the bed, he started to rummage through it and pull out some different clothes. Standing up, he quickly shed his sweat-soaked shirt, replacing it with another one. He kept his breeches on, but removed the good quality leather boots he’d got from his parents last Yuletide in favour of an older, soft-soled pair that would give him better footing as he fixed the few roof tiles that had come loose. Leaving the discarded clothes on the floor Harry quickly left his small attic-room, determined to turn his mind from the blond warrior who had the power to change his life as he knew it.

\- l  e r o  i -

d  e s

\- m  a s q  u e s -

 

Severus was lying stretched out on the bed, dressed now, and idly flicking through a sheaf of parchment with his travel notes when the door to the room crashed open and Lucius stormed in. His face was a mask of anger, agitation in his every forceful move. He swept into the room, letting the door fall shut behind him, and immediately strode over to the table where he quickly downed one of the small vials of muscle-relaxant that Severus was proficient in brewing. Placing the vial back on the table with a soft clink, he leaned over it with his head bowed, every single muscle coiled in tension, his hands clenching around the table edge.

Severus merely raised his eyebrows and turned the page. Lucius’ propensity for anger was a well-established aspect of their friendship, and he would require very little prompting by Severus to express it. That said, Severus did so enjoy the little moments when he could find amusement at his friend’s expense and couldn’t resist saying lightly: ‘Is something the matter?’

The response was immediate.

‘Impudent Gryffindor servant!’ Lucius barked out. ‘Who does he think he is?!’

Severus bit back an amused smirk as he worked out the source of Lucius’ ire. ‘Seducing the serving boy didn’t quite go to plan then?’

‘He’s the stable-boy, actually, and I’ve never seen such impertinence and defiance in a peasant before! And to think _ he _ could lay hands on  _ me _ !’ Lucius ground to a halt, too incensed to continue his diatribe. 

Faced with such an outraged expression, Severus couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. So few could withstand Lucius’ charms that he felt instant admiration for the boy who had. ‘It is good to be thwarted on occasion, Lucius; I hear it builds character,’ he offered wryly, still chuckling quietly to himself. 

Lucius’ mouth tightened and he turned away to stare out of the window. His voice was tight when he spoke. ‘Well, enjoy it as much as you want now. There will not be a repeat.’

‘Oh come now, Lucius,’ Severus almost purred. ‘Surely you won’t let a mere stable-boy force you to run away with your tail tucked between your legs?’

Lucius swung around, his face almost frozen with incredulity that Severus had even considered saying such a thing. When Severus remained unrepentant, his black eyes sparkling with mirth and fondness, Lucius sighed, finally realising how ridiculous he was being. He shook his head in feigned despair, releasing his own snort of amusement.

‘If you weren’t my friend, Severus…’ Lucius warned softly.

‘Then you would have no one else,’ Severus said simply. Placing his notes to one side, he patted the bed beside him in invitation.

Lucius crossed the room and settled himself on the bed, lying on his side facing Severus, his right arm supporting his head. He closed his eyes and breathed out slowly. Severus’ hand immediately entwined itself in the long white-blond locks that he had always loved to touch so much, gently sifting the strands away from Lucius’ face. The blond turned his head into Severus’ palm, savouring the contact.

On the surface they seemed so different. Lucius was born to wealth and status, to privilege and power; Severus to poverty, suffering and a lifelong struggle to become better than what he had been,  _ who he had been. _ Though both were tall, they were physically different: Severus was leaner, more wiry, a mere shadow compared to the brightness that was Lucius. One chose solitude over company, darkness as opposed to light, the shadows instead of the centre. So different, and yet in what mattered, they were the same.

Both temperamental, both strong-willed, both so  _ damaged _ …Severus and Lucius would always find comfort with each other, the other’s presence a soothing balm for troubled minds and weary hearts. They found understanding in each other, a shared desire for freedom; freedom from the life they had unwittingly bound themselves into, from the Lord who was just as likely to kill them than praise them…but they had no choice. So they hid their desires, their fears, in the deepest recesses of their souls, where even they could not always reach.

Such was their way.

When Lucius raised his gaze to meet Severus’, his hand reaching out to cup the black-haired man’s chin, Severus did not pull away, had no intention of pulling away. When a strong arm pulled him downwards, he went willingly into the embrace. When nimble fingers tugged at the bottom of his shirt, his boots, breeches, he aided in their removal, and moved to reciprocate until both were bare, their bodies warming with desire and the sunlight falling in thin beams across the bed.

They kissed with familiarity, lips and tongues sliding across each other in a slow, sensual caress; their hands moved over slicked skin, eliciting moans and gasps and shivers, long years of experience giving them the knowledge of exactly where to stroke, where to scratch, and where to touch to satisfy the cravings of their bodies.

Afterwards, they lay curled together, limbs stretched out across the sheets, their chests rising and falling as they caught their breath once more, the sweat on their bodies drying in the warmth of the room.

Lucius sighed. ‘What’s the plan for today then, Severus?’ he asked, his voice laden with drowsiness.

‘Scout the village and then question the villagers - the same as what we’ve been doing in every village that we’ve passed since coming here,’ Severus replied, eyes closed, not wishing to rise just yet.

‘All right.’ There was a pause. ‘You collect the horses.’

Severus rolled his eyes. ‘You and your dramatics,’ he sighed, ‘but if you wish to avoid your young stable-boy, then who am I to deny you?’

Gathering up his clothes, he dressed, making sure everything was in its proper place before reaching for his scabbard and sword.

‘I’ll collect some food for our trip today.  _ You  _ just make sure you’re ready to go by the time I return,’ he said pointedly, before a wicked grin spread across his features. ‘Try not to spend overlong primping in front of the mirror.’

With that parting shot, he turned on his heel and fled, enjoying Lucius’ shouted curses behind him, knowing that it would be a short while until he was able to enact his vengeance.

 

\- l  e r o  i -

d  e s

\- m  a s q  u e s -

 

‘Harry! Harry, can you come down here for a minute?!’

Wiping away the line of sweat that was trickling down the side of his face, Harry paused in his hammering, checking to see whether the last of the newly replaced tiles was secure before scooting backwards slightly until he reached the ladder that had been propped against the side of the building. Glancing down he saw his father standing at the bottom of the steps, shielding his eyes with a hand as he waited for Harry to come down. Clambering down the steps easily despite the bucket of nails, tools and broken tiles in his hand, Harry dropped the last few inches to the ground. He placed the bucket down and wiped his hands and face on the cloth that his father handed him.

‘You managed it all right up there?’ Robert asked, smiling gently.

Harry nodded. ‘There were a few more than you’d thought, but I changed them all fine. Shouldn’t be any more leaks.’

His father made a small noise of agreement. ‘Well, with winter coming, let’s hope it’ll be okay.’

With a quick habitual glance to ensure no one was in the vicinity to overhear, Harry lowered his voice to reassure, ‘I’ll fix it one way or another.’

There had been worries, at first, that the Dark Lord would be able to sense any magick on Harry’s part and use it to track him down, but after so many years, the Grangers had relaxed somewhat their rules on the use of his Gift, although by the small frown that appeared on his father’s face at Harry’s suggestion, Robert still had trouble accepting this flagrant use of his Gift for such a trivial purpose. He’d always been such a staunch supporter of hard work and gaining on one’s own merits, while Harry took the more open-minded view that if he had it, there was no reason why he shouldn’t use it. Heated debates over that particular issue had been a frequent occurrence in the family, and though they’d lessened considerably as Harry had grown older and more able to make his own decisions and choices, there were still times that clearly showed the issue remained to some extent unresolved.

‘We’ll see,’ Robert said shortly, neither an agreement nor refusal.

He knew that his father hadn’t simply come looking for him out of a desire to discuss roof tiles. It had been long enough since this morning for Parvati to stop dithering and pass on the incident of the stables to his mother, who, it seemed, had decided to let his father handle it; for now, anyway.

‘Whatever you do Harry, you will take care, won’t you?’

Expecting a reproach and a further need to hear his reassurances that the incident wouldn’t happen again, he was somewhat confused by his father’s words. Wary that it was merely a lead-up to the anticipated lecture - even though they were more his mother’s style - Harry answered carefully: ‘Yes?’

His eyes wandering over the stable courtyard, Robert nodded to himself. ‘Good.’

Harry waited, but on realising that no more comments were forthcoming, his expression changed into one of disbelief. ‘That’s it?’ he blurted out before he could stop himself.

Robert hummed vaguely in reply. ‘We’ve always sheltered you - we’ve always known it. Firstly, it was because you were so young and vulnerable, then with your Gift, and the fear that you’d be taken away from us. And after Hermione…’ He trailed off, and Harry laid a comforting arm around his shoulders, still surprised to see that he was inches taller than the man who used to carry him around on his shoulders with ease, who had taught him so much about life and family and honour. Robert shook his head. ‘Well… Perhaps we were wrong, but it was with the best intentions. You’re old enough to know now, though, what is best for you. If that just so happens to be brawling in stables with the Dark Lord’s warriors, well then…’

Harry laughed, gripping his father more tightly. ‘I never meant for it to happen, honestly…it’s just hard, sometimes, not to get angry…’

His father patted him gently on his back. ‘You’ll manage Harry; you always do.’ He paused, sending a sideways glance in Harry’s direction. ‘And if your mother asks -’

‘I’ll tell her you berated me long and hard.’ Harry’s eyes were full of affection gazing down at his father.

‘Something like that, anyway. Now,’ he said, changing the topic, ‘they requested their horses be prepared.’

Harry didn’t need to ask who “they” were. ‘They’re leaving already?’ he asked hopefully. 

‘Unfortunately not,’ Robert answered dourly. ‘Just taking a ride. I said you would leave the horses in the courtyard for them - you don’t need to be here when they come to collect.’

Harry was grateful for the simple reprieve. ‘Probably for the best. I’d best get to it…’

‘And after? What do you plan to do?’ Robert queried. 

Harry nibbled his lower lips as he considered his options. Staying at the tavern held little appeal to him, despite some tasks that could do with being finished, and he couldn’t go into the village because of his earlier arguments with the other boys there.

‘I think I’ll go visit Hermione,’ he said at last.

His father nodded, his expression a little more strained than before, but smiling all the same. He clapped a hand on Harry’s shoulder. ‘Tell your mother before you leave - see if she has anything she wants you to take.’

Harry nodded and remained watching as his father meandered back into the main building of the inn. He turned to pick up the discarded bucket, preparing to put away what he’d been using to fix the roof. Perhaps seeing his sister would lift his spirits somewhat, and talking to her would make some sense of what was going on. 

\- l  e r o  i -

d  e s

\- m  a s q  u e s -

 

The air was crisp when they set out from the village, rife with the smell of autumn: the red-leaved trees of the forest around and above them, with its curling wisps of mist that still clung from that morning. Birds sang overhead, soaring in the blue sky above, wheeling and spinning, while on the ground they could see the tracks of animals left in the dewed grass. They rode leisurely along the path, only making the occasional comment to one another, simply enjoying the weak sunlight that was neither too hot, nor too bright.

Sighing in contentment, Severus settled more comfortably in his saddle, releasing all but the barest hold on the reins, letting Thanatos go where he willed, free to choose his own way. The two warriors were clad in only the bare minimum of armour, light mail vests over their black shirts, with leather guards strapped to their arms and shins, and cloaks thrown back over their shoulders to expose the long blades at their waists.

Just as they had done in all the other villages they had passed, they rode aimlessly, scouting the area - a reconnaissance more than anything else, for the sake of it rather than for some specific purpose. From what their Lord had chosen to divulge to them and the scant information they had managed to glean from the Gryffindors who had deigned to answer their questions, the place they sought was relatively close by and the item their Master coveted closer to their reach. They had only the vaguest idea of what it was their Master sought - a simple description, only hints as to where it was, and what they would have to go through to acquire it - but they knew not to question further. It was not their place. 

To his surprise Severus had found he’d enjoyed their excursion far more than he had anticipated - no matter the reason for it, the ability to travel around the Kingdoms in the company of Lucius without scrutiny of other Death Eaters or their Lord was liberating. 

Unfortunately, that current freedom also served to highlight the prison that was Slytherin Castle. There was no question that he hated the place: it wasn’t just the physical aspect of it, with the cold stone and the dank corridors, but its dark and oppressive nature, the taint of betrayal and death and untameable fear that seemed to almost seep under his skin every time he passed through those serpent engraved gates. 

It was everything that it represented too.

It had been a folly to join the Dark Lord - foolishness inspired by his desire for power and approval and scorn for the low position he held in life. He’d wanted to leave behind the poverty and derision that he’d known as a child, and had believed that becoming a Death Eater was the only way. He’d learned quickly the truth of things.

The thing he had hoped would set him free had in fact shackled him more firmly than anything else could ever have done.

Moving up the ranks had given him no pleasure; instead, it had shown him just how vicious life under the Dark Lord was. In horror he had seen what it truly meant to serve, to kneel at the feet of his Lord, and submit. He had seen, and he had been appalled. His eyes had been finally - truly - open to what he had become: a man stained by the lives of the people who had died by his hand at the orders of his Lord, their pleading cries haunting his nights and days. 

Even his work with healing balms and potions had given him no respite from the nightmare that he was experiencing. His state of torpor had gone on for weeks, turned into months. He had carried out his duties as usual to the best of his abilities - to do less would be to tempt the Dark Lord’s wrath - but his actions were done automatically, while inside a maelstrom had been brewing and swirling and steadily growing, until something had had to change - or he would have broken under it all, lest he choose to end his misery in a more permanent way.

And something had changed: Lucius.

Lucius: the cold-hearted, arrogant noble, with eyes of ice.

Lucius: the man whom he had hated on sight, feared on sight.

Lucius: the man, who in the end, had come to mean more to him than his own life.

Glancing to his right, his black eyes swept over his friend, taking in his posture and facial expression for any sign of discomfort from his shoulder, prepared to rest for a while if need be. The other man was just as relaxed as he, his long hair glinting in the light: a halo for a Death Eater. Watching him, Severus felt his breath catch, his heart stutter, just as it always did.

He would follow Lucius to the ends of the earth, and if he but asked, even beyond.

‘Severus.’

Severus’ head snapped around at Lucius’ call, his entire stance shifting into one of alertness. His eyes darted quickly over their surroundings for any change or hint of danger, and his hand moved towards his sword.

‘What is it?’ he asked quickly.

‘Look. Over there.’

Lucius nodded to one side, and following his gaze, Severus saw what had caught the blond’s attention. There, nestled between the trees almost invisibly was a small path.

Immediately more vigilant, the two Death Eaters directed their mounts towards the narrow path, forced to travel in single file, with Lucius in the lead. From the looks of things, the track was rarely used, but Severus could see hints of someone’s recent passing - a snapped branch here and there, a footprint in the dirt.

Suddenly, they turned a corner and the path opened out onto a wide clearing. With a shared glance of surprise, they took in the small cottage sitting opposite them, its back to the rock face of a small cliff, offering it some form of shelter. It was simple, rustic, made from wooden logs nailed together, with two windows on the outward side. A small stream trickled to the left of the clearing and in front of the house itself was a garden, one that would have been magnificent had it been spring, but was now withered and browned by autumn.

Hearing a soft bleat to the right, they looked in that direction and saw two goats grazing quietly under a tree, a rope around their necks keeping them from straying too far. Beside them, dozing, was a young girl. From his position, Severus could make out long brown hair tied back with a soft, faded blue scarf, the peasant garb a rich chocolate brown, a knitted red shawl wrapped around her slim shoulders. Her face was pleasant enough, not beautiful, but not unattractive either.

With a small glance his way, Lucius dismounted, his hand moving automatically to rest on his weapon, his footsteps soft as he made his way through the flowerbeds towards the girl.

‘Excuse me?’ The blond warrior asked, his voice carrying over the clearing.

With a small start, the girl awoke, her brown eyes flying open and taking in the sight of both Lucius and Severus. Then she opened her mouth, and screamed.

 

\- l  e r o  i -

d  e s

\- m  a s q  u e s -

 

His feet trod softly along the forest path, the leaves casting shadows over him as he moved, his bright eyes flicking around him, his ears picking up the barely discernible noises of the woodland creatures moving around him. It was quiet and peaceful, a place of enjoyment for him. He had spent so long in this forest as a boy, spent days in fun and nights by the fire with father or friends. It had always been a place of tranquillity, of stillness, a place of freedom and escape.

Not that day, however.

The scream pierced the air, shrill and filled with fear, sending birds to flight and small animals scurrying under the brush. His head snapped up, his eyes widening in recognition and horror, before adrenaline and strength pumped into his blood, and he immediately began to run. Branches snapped as he passed, brushed along his face and legs and sides, long legs taking him easily along the woods and paths he knew so well.

He knew that voice, guessed what he might find, and prayed he would not be too late.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter! Severus makes a proposal and Harry deliberates.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **See End Notes for content warnings**

_ Le Roi Des Masques _

 

**Part Three**

Lucius had learned the art of war from a young age, first at the knee of his grandfather, then at the side of his father. He’d practised the skill of the hunt and the fight, gained the precision and delicacy that was so inherent to Slytherins and for which he’d become so renowned among his peers on his way to greatness.

He knew what it was to hold the power of life or death in his hands. He knew too the respect that such power deserved. 

In the life of a soldier, death and pain were commonplace; sometimes it was a game - one that Lucius liked to play and win.

But this wasn’t a game. 

As the first scream tore from her throat, the girl recoiled against the tree behind her, her arms rising to cover as much of her face and body as she could, her mouth a wide circle in her pale face, her brown eyes bright with terror and tears. 

He understood now why she was living here all on her own, understood now why her home was hidden so.

‘Please,’ he said in his most soothing tone, ‘I mean you no harm.’

‘Get away!’ she cried out, and made to dash past him towards the cottage. In her hurry, her foot caught on the edge of her skirts and she fell forwards. 

It was instinct to reach out and catch her, to prevent her falling and injuring herself, but the moment his hands caught her arms, she let out a keening moan and all but collapsed at his feet. He followed her down into a crouch, releasing his hold as soon as he was certain she would not tumble over, lifting his hands in front of himself, palms facing forwards. 

‘I won’t touch you again, I promise,’ he tried to keep his tone gentle. ‘I just wanted to make sure you were okay.’

The girl drew in on herself, curling her body forwards to make herself a smaller target, and Lucius could see how her body shook; he was surprised at how helpless he felt that he couldn’t soothe a frightened girl and undo the damage he had unwittingly caused. 

‘Here, now, there’s no need to be afraid,’ he carried on, but he was cut off by a sudden movement to his right and he had only seconds to register the sight of the giant beast which leapt out from between the trees before it charged straight for him. 

His breath caught in his throat and he threw himself to the side just in time to avoid the collision, rolling onto his shoulder and gritting his teeth against the sharp pain of impact, coming up onto his knees with his dagger in hand. 

His eyes widened as he registered the magnificent creature before him, poised to attack as it stood between him and the girl; intelligent golden eyes were unwaveringly locked on him, its silver pelt almost glowing in the sunlight, a cover for the strong and powerful body. The wolf’s head was lowered, the hackles on its back raised in warning, the glint of sharp white teeth visible in its snarling jaws. A continuous growl rumbled through its chest, the harsh sound loud in the silence, making both the horses and the goats nearby uneasy.

He heard a thud behind him and knew that Severus had dismounted; a glance towards him showed him on guard, his sword out and prepared to act. His eyes moved next to the girl, wondering how they were going to fight the wolf without alarming her again. To his surprise he found no fear in her now as she too looked upon the wolf; instead her expression was relieved, her sobs quietening.

It was difficult to believe, but he could conclude nothing else. 

‘Severus, it’s protecting her,’ he called out quickly. 

Severus shifted his stance slightly and Lucius saw the golden eyes move to the dark-haired man, once again amazed by the intelligence in them.

‘How much are you willing to trust that?’ Severus asked, although he too was appraising the situation.

‘Well...let’s see then, shall we?’ Lucius muttered under his breath, slowly rising to his feet and feeling that fearsome gaze on him once again. One slow step at a time he moved backwards towards Severus and the horses, the knife lowered at his side; he may believe the wolf was protecting the girl, but he wasn’t so stupid as to put away his weapon until he was out of its range. 

The moments seemed to last forever - his heart beating rapidly in his chest, his palm itching around his dagger - before the wolf ceased its growling and, still keeping the two warriors in its sight, circled around to stand protectively beside the girl. Lucius watched in amazement as she reached out a hand and curled it into the fur at the wolf’s neck; the animal made no move to resist. 

‘Well I’ll be damned,’ Severus cursed incredulously behind him. ‘You were right, after all.’

Lucius nodded, deciding to use this opportunity to sheath his dagger and get back to Charon. He mounted quickly, taking up the reins, while Severus released his sword and pulled himself onto his own charger.

‘Let’s leave. We’ll learn nothing of use here. I suggest we return to the village and question the people there,’ Severus said quietly as he turned his horse, urging it into a walk and heading for the path they had come through.

Lucius nodded in agreement, his eyes taking in the scene before him: the now-happy girl and the wolf standing guard over her, surrounded by trees and flowers - before he too did the same as his friend.

 

\- l  e r o  i -

d  e s

\- m  a s q  u e s -

 

Harry waited until he was sure the Death Eaters had left before he returned to human form, accompanied by a shimmer of magick and a ripple of muscles. He shook himself slightly, becoming once more accustomed to his usual perspective, height and shape, before he turned his attention on his sister. He looped his arms around her, hugging her close. 

His stomach was still clenched tight from the vision of her when he’d come into the clearing, huddled on the ground as the blond warrior reached out towards her. His only thought had been to protect her, and even now his body still thrummed with unspent energy and his lupine senses could still pick up the lingering trace of her fear. The only thing stopping him from going after the two men and chasing them away from his family and his village was that Hermione needed him now, and he would do anything before letting her down  _ again _ …

Harry swallowed as memories began to surface - memories of fear and wild magick, the cloying scent of blood and the overwhelming feeling of helplessness. He’d been so young and foolish then, and because of it, his sister had paid the price.

‘Hermione,’ he said softly, brushing a hand over her hair and pulling away some leaves that had been caught in the curls. 

‘It’s okay, Harry,’ came her muffled reply, her face still tucked against his chest. ‘I’m all right - I was just…’ She choked slightly, falling silent. 

Harry stroked a hand along her back. ‘They didn’t hurt you?’ he asked, feeling the need to check, even though he was sure he had arrived in time. 

‘No! No,’ Hermione protested, at last pulling away; she swiped roughly at the tears on her cheeks with her hands, then let them fall into her lap where they twisted in the folds of her skirt. ‘They just took me by surprise. I was asleep, and then they were there. I’m okay, now,’ she reassured him, and though her smile was a little tremulous, Harry would take her word for it. 

‘Why don’t we go in and I’ll make some tea?’ he offered, rising to his feet and offering her a hand to help her up. 

She nodded gratefully, and still holding his hand, tugged him towards the small cottage which Harry and their father had built specifically for Hermione so that she could live in peace away from the people of the village and the strangers that frequented the inn.

The heavy wooden door swung open gently, its hinges having been oiled by Harry only a few days before in preparation for the stiffness that winter always brought. The inside was warm from the fire in a metal cooker heating the room, insulated and protected further by Harry’s Gift. As he passed through the doorway he checked quickly to make sure all was still well. Satisfied, he glanced over the single room with its large comfortable bed in one corner, its cupboard of trinkets beside it. 

There was a large table in the middle of the room, a kitchen-like area on the other side of the room, enclosed somewhat by tall wooden shelves filled with the books that Hermione loved so much and spent so much of her time reading. There were pictures and flowers scattered everywhere, pinned to walls, sitting on surfaces, making the room look cheerful and bright. Curtains hung at the windows, ones that Hermione had helped Elizabeth make. It was small but it was comfortable, and it was exactly what Hermione needed. A space for her own, where her imprint was on everything in the room - from the carpets to the cups that Harry began pulling down from the hooks in the wall.

‘Who were they?’

She’d settled down at the table while Harry had occupied himself with boiling water and fetching the tea things; her legs were tucked up under her chin, her arms resting across them. 

‘No one,’ Harry replied instinctively, though he immediately cringed at the reproachful look Hermione shot his way.

‘I’m isolated, Harry, not stupid,’ she told him, accepting the cup he placed before her - sweet and milky, and the opposite of Harry’s own plain tea. ‘Now, tell me.’

‘I didn’t think you’d want to discuss it,’ he explained, but duly took his own seat opposite his sister, sighing as his thoughts turned to the two warriors and how much he wanted to tell her. There were few with whom he could share his secrets; luckily, Hermione was included in that small group, and Harry had always valued her input. Sometimes, he felt more able to speak to her than his parents, as much as he loved them. 

‘They’re Death Eaters,’ he told her without preamble. ‘They arrived last night and are staying in the  _ Claw _ .’

It took Hermione a long moment to process that, and she gripped the china mug between her hands tightly. Harry made no move to interrupt, knowing his sister would not appreciate his interference, wishing to overcome her weaknesses on her own as much as she was able. After a few more seconds, her hands relaxed once more and she smoothed her right palm over the tabletop. 

‘Do you know why?’ she questioned. 

‘As far as I can tell they’re passing through, but one of them was injured last night, so I think they’re taking a brief pause from their travels. Zacharias had an injury, so it wouldn’t surprise me if he were responsible for the skirmish,’ he answered the question before she could even ask, scowling slightly as he thought of the younger boy. 

‘Where would they be going? They don’t come across like your average Death Eater,’ Hermione commented. They were hardly experts in the Dark Lord’s army, but even without Lucius’ pointed introduction, it was obvious the two men were skilled and high-ranking, far removed from the lowly recruits or mercenaries that they were more likely to see in this part of the Kingdoms. 

‘There are rumours they’re seeking Godric’s Hollow,’ he said with a grimace, knowing immediately what his sister’s reaction would be. 

Her eyebrows drew down in a scowl and her mouth tightened disapprovingly. ‘Harry, that’s  _ your  _ heritage,’ she reminded him sharply; she had made her feelings on this matter very plain to him over the years, and it had been a frequent cause of disagreements between the siblings. So much knowledge, so much history lost, and any chance of recouping it lay with him - except there was no guarantee, he would argue, and no chance at all if he didn’t even try, Hermione would counter. 

The debate had never quite come to a head such as now: whatever reason the two Death Eaters had for travelling through Gryffindor Lands, it was likely to be of benefit to the Dark Lord; the same would not be true for the people of the Kingdoms. 

‘I don’t know what to do,’ Harry answered honestly, and there was the crux of his current dilemma.

For so long he’d been told to stay hidden, to protect himself and his family and remain uninvolved - but now it felt as if the Dark Lord’s reach had touched his home, and he wanted it gone. 

He had never made any serious attempts to find the Hollow. There had always been other things to do, and he’d never been sure there would be anything worth finding; perhaps if Hermione had been able to travel with him, he would have reconsidered, but circumstances being as they were, the interest had waned. Whatever questions remained of his true past, he’d been content to leave to rest; everything he wanted was here in Hedwig’s Nest.

‘You know what I think,’ Hermione was quick to remind him, but also knew when to relent. ‘How are mother and father?’

Grateful for the change in conversation, Harry turned to lighter topics, and the afternoon was spent pleasantly, regaling Hermione with village gossip and discussing the books she’d recently read. 

The real world could be put on hold for a short while. 

 

\- l  e r o  i -

d  e s

\- m  a s q  u e s -

 

The barroom in  _ The Gryffin’s Claw _ was quiet that evening, calm after the bustle of activity spurred by dinner only a short while earlier. The patrons of the tavern had come and eaten their fill of the warm and freshly-cooked meal, leaving once more to return to their tasks and take advantage of what light there was left before dusk fell. The only occupants in the room were a smattering of old men nursing their tankards of ale in front of the fire, one or two dozing in their seats, the tall dark-haired woman wiping table surfaces clean with a cloth, and Severus himself, sequestered in one of the dark corners of the room, his own empty plates on the table before him and a cup of firewhisky cradled in one hand.

He and Lucius had left that morning’s incident with rather subdued spirits, both lost in thought or speculation yet neither willing to speak of what they had seen. By the time they had reached the village proper once more, they had returned somewhat to their former states, eager to set aside what had happened in favour of speaking with the villagers and hopefully of furthering the progress on their search. They had deposited their horses at the tavern - unsurprised when they did not recognise the boy who helped them: it seemed that their wayward stable-boy did not wish to encounter them again. They had split up then, Lucius firstly to retrieve some of Severus’ healing tonics from their room before starting on his search, and Severus to begin the slow trek through the village.

He had been met with wariness at first, which had not come as a surprise. The village was small, the community close-knit and close-mouthed, unlike the larger towns and cities they were used to frequenting, where people were more likely to share information. 

Out of the two, Lucius was by far the better suited to dealing with people, more likely to entice them into giving him what he wanted with silky smiles and soft words, his true thoughts hidden behind silver eyes; Severus, on the other hand, had a far greater chance of offending whomever he was talking to. Despite his nature, however, with his caustic words and his intolerance for the foolish and inept, even Severus could charm like the best of them when he so desired, and at that moment in time he had very much so desired.

And sometimes, what was unsaid could be more revealing than what spoken. 

He’d spent as much of the afternoon talking with the villagers as he dared, a purchase of some fruit a handy bribe, before retreating back to the inn when he’d outstayed his welcome. Now all that needed to happen was for Lucius to return also, and then the two would share their findings.

Just as he was contemplating going upstairs to their shared room to wait for Lucius there, the door of the tavern opened and in strode the blond, a mildly contemplative look on his face. His eyes searched the room until they fell on Severus, whereupon he crossed the room with long strides, seating himself at the table opposite Severus with a tired sigh.

Severus raised his brow in question. ‘Problems?’

Lucius shook his head slightly in answer. ‘No; I’m merely glad to be done with that.’

Severus leant his elbows on the table, putting down his glass. Lucius picked it up at once, taking a long swallow; he gave only a minute shrug at Severus’ scowl, completely unrepentant. Severus’ mouth twisted down in displeasure, but he dismissed it in favour of informing his friend of what he had found that day.

‘As you can probably guess, those I spoke to have little indication of knowing anything about the Hollow, or where it is,’ Severus retold, the scorn clear in his voice.

Lucius nodded, making a small sound of agreement. ‘My findings were nearly identical regarding the Hollow. The only thing of interest I encountered was the local rumour of the village being a “lucky place”.

Severus’ eyes narrowed, his expression becoming sharper. ‘What do you mean?’

Lucius settled back in his chair. ‘I was talking to an old woman who lives on the edge of the village - a rather talkative old woman, as it happens. She was eager to tell me about the history this village has of bizarre events - an endless stream of oddities that simply cannot be explained.’

‘These oddities she mentioned: what are they?’ Severus asked, a fingertip running over his lip as he thought.

‘She said they’re never consistent. She mentioned a tree falling and narrowly missing a person who everyone swore was standing beneath it only seconds before; items lost only to turn up unexpectedly on the owner’s doorstep; inexplicable fires starting and stopping just as quickly as they’ve begun…’ Lucius explained absently, clearly ready to dismiss such things out of hand, despite the fact he’d been the one to mention them first.

Severus considered this a moment, wondering if it had any relevance to their own task. At first thought, the two were unconnected - a task to seek out the Hollow on their Master’s orders, and the gossip of an old woman about the goings on in a small village. However, when taking into consideration the apparent proximity of this rather unimportant village to the Hollow, perhaps there was something to be gained from thinking more on it after all.

‘When did these things start, did she say?’ Severus pressed on.

‘When? Oh, about nine years ago, she reckons,’ Lucius replied, turning in his seat to signal the dark-haired serving girl over to their table.

Whatever theories Severus had been contemplating were quickly put aside then for him to consider later on when he had both more time and more information at his disposal. At the moment, Severus watched as the young woman whom he’d seen wiping the tables before make her way over to them, a wooden tray tucked under one arm. She came to a stop before their table.

‘Can I help, sir?’

‘Yes,’ Lucius said. ‘I’d like another glass of firewhisky.’

The girl nodded, leaving them briefly and returning with Lucius’ drink.

‘Shall I add it to your tab?’ she asked.

‘Please.’ Severus nodded.

‘I’ll take these while I’m here,’ she said, reaching across to pick up the plates left over from Severus’ meal. ‘Anything else I can do for you?’

‘Yes, actually,’ Lucius smiled widely at her, his entire demeanour relaxed and full of familiarity. ‘I was wondering if you’d be able to tell us something. We were out riding this morning, when we stumbled across this cottage by a stream. Do you know who lives there?’

At once the girl’s polite smile disappeared. Her back straightened, and the look that she levelled upon Lucius was full of suspicion, concern, and just a hint of fear.

‘What were you doing there?’ she questioned, her voice hard.

Lucius’ smile dimmed somewhat, and Severus’ curiosity was piqued at this rather abrupt shift in emotions.

‘We wandered there by mistake,’ Lucius soothed her. ‘Nothing more. We were simply curious.’

‘Don’t go there again,’ she warned them, and Severus was vaguely impressed by her bravery in issuing orders to the two warriors. 

‘You have our word,’ he assured her, ‘if you would be so kind as to answer a few questions in return.’

The girl stared at them for a moment longer, before her stiffened back eased slightly; her mouth remained twisted down in unhappiness, clearly giving in with reluctance. ‘What did you want to know?’

‘We saw a girl - she came to no harm,’ he cut off the inevitable question he could see her about to ask. ‘Can you tell us who she is?’ 

A touch of surprise flashed over her features, before her expression once again darkened. ‘Her name is Hermione. She lives in the cottage as she finds being in the village too...upsetting. She is protected, and cared for, and her family do right by her,’ she was quick to add, an unspoken warning in her eyes. ‘We don’t discuss the circumstances - especially not with strangers.’

Severus had no wish to incur any more of her wrath, and wisely moved away from that line of questioning, despite some lingering curiosity about the so-called “circumstances”. ‘What do you know of the wolf?’ he asked instead. 

The girl’s nose wrinkled in confusion. ‘I don’t really understand what you mean. We see traces, sometimes, but we’ve never had any trouble with wolves in this area.’

Severus believed her, and was somewhat disappointed that another line of inquiry would go no further. ‘We thank you for your honesty. Again, we meant no harm.’

The woman sighed. ‘I realise. I apologise.’ She began to turn away, but the two men still caught her last words. ‘It’s just…Harry won’t be pleased when he finds out.’

Lucius’ arm jerked out to halt her in her path. ‘What has Harry got to do with the girl?’

‘She’s Harry’s sister, of course,’ she answered, and quickly stepped forwards to make her way to the door that led to the kitchens.

‘Of course,’ Severus repeated as he watched her go, wondering what to make of the newest development.

Lucius’ expression showed he was likewise preoccupied with his thoughts. He turned to glance at Severus.

‘I forgot to mention before: when I was asking around for anybody who might have good knowledge of this area, or any knowledge of its history or connection to the Royals, everyone had exactly the same answer.’

Severus grimaced. ‘Harry.’

Lucius nodded.

‘I do believe your young stable boy warrants another look. He is involved in far too much for my liking,’ Severus mused.

Across the room from them the object of their discussion had just entered the barroom; the dark-haired woman immediately rushed to his side and began a conversation in furious whispers. Severus had no doubt as to what it was about. Now all that was left to figure out was how it all tied together.

 

\- l  e r o  i -

d  e s

\- m  a s q  u e s -

 

Early the next morning, Harry made his way out into the back courtyard to a small wooden hut on the side of the tavern where the firewood was kept. After thanking Angelina the night before, he had quickly removed himself from the barroom and retreated to his attic in the hope that if he managed to get away far enough and quickly enough, he could escape another confrontation with the Death Eaters. Although his afternoon with Hermione had convinced him the two men had done her no harm and there would be no lasting effects, he was still not ready to be around them for fear of inciting even more of their curiosity. He already knew he was failing that respect, since he’d passed through the village on the way home and both his name and the names of the warriors had featured together in far too many conversations for him to feel comfortable. So much for his promise to his mother to stay low…

The temperature had turned chilly, though his work kept him warm enough, his mind and thoughts becoming lost in the steady and repetitive chopping of wood. Despite his wandering mind, however, he noticed immediately when a second presence joined him in the courtyard; he paused in his work and turned to face them, keeping his expression neutral. 

It was little surprise to see it was a Death Eater, and though he might have been half-expecting the blond to return in order to finish the confrontation they had started the morning before, it was in fact the dark-haired one - Severus - who was walking towards him with purpose in his long-legged stride. While he considered the blond to be arrogant, Harry had not yet made up his mind about Severus. He seemed quieter, more restrained though no less dangerous; whether it was a cultivated look Harry had no idea, and really, it hardly mattered - the man would have to be treated with caution anyway. He had watchful eyes, and there was never any telling what he might notice. 

The man came to a halt just a metre away from Harry, his arms held loosely by his sides, his left hand resting upon the hilt of his sword in an unconscious stance mirrored by warriors the world over. It was a show of strength and confidence in his abilities, or either a show of weakness, of nerves. Harry suspected there was little of the latter in this man, which meant that he was probably very, very good. The black eyes swept over him, likely re-evaluating whatever opinion the man had made of him from before. Harry bore it all with patience, deciding he would let the other man begin this time.

He didn’t have long to wait.

‘I have a proposition for you.’

Harry couldn’t help his incredulous expression or the widening of his eyes. ‘What do you people take me for?’ he asked scathingly. ‘You are certainly more direct than your friend, I’ll give you that, but my answer is exactly the same: no.’

A chuckle spilled over the man’s lips and amusement filled his dark eyes. Even when his mirth ceased, a smile still curled his lips, softening his rather harsh features. ‘Ah, yes. After your run-in with Lucius I can see where you might have gathered that idea, but you mistake me:  my proposition was business, rather than pleasure.’

Although still wary of the Death Eater, some of Harry’s tension eased slightly; he could appreciate Severus’ candidness and humour in the situation. ‘You’ll forgive me for assuming…’ he replied wryly. 

Severus nodded, and laid out his proposal. ‘We are looking for a guide to take us around this area, and also that of more northern parts. We are seeking an item that is said to reside within the ruins of Godric’s Hollow. Your name has come highly recommended as someone who has knowledge of both region and subject, hence my seeking you out with this offer of a job - a very well-rewarded job if your aid results in the completion of our task.’

Although their mission itself was something Harry had easily worked out considering they had been asking questions regarding the subject, it  _ was _ a surprise to Harry that Severus had so easily divulged the details of it - he had assumed it was meant to be a secret. He also hadn’t expected to be asked for his services as a guide; information, yes, but not to accompany them. 

It gave him pause, and the immediate rejection he had been intending to give any request for information died on his tongue. To stall for time and give himself a moment to think before he had to answer, Harry reached down for the pieces of wood he had already chopped, beginning to stack them into a pile ready to take in with him. 

‘What item?’ he asked instead. 

‘We don’t know for sure,’ Severus informed him, ‘but we assume an item belonging to a Royal.’ 

It made sense, and Harry was inclined to believe Severus was telling the truth; he had been remarkably honest so far. Now it was just a matter of what he would do about it…

‘When do you need an answer?’ he asked, wetting his suddenly dry lips.

‘Tomorrow, preferably; if the answer is no, we will need to make alternative arrangements,’ Severus answered. ‘If you have further questions, you may ask before you decide.’

Harry held his gaze for a few moments, then gave a small shake of his head. ‘Not at the moment.’

Severus gave a sharp nod. ‘Very well. Let me know once you have made your decision,’ Severus said, and turned sharply on his heel, wandering back across the courtyard and leaving a very shaken Harry behind.

 

\- l  e r o  i -

d  e s

\- m  a s q  u e s -

 

‘Do you honestly think he’ll agree to it?’

He had kept quiet all afternoon, ever since Severus had told him of his earlier talk with Harry, lingering pride and antagonism keeping still his tongue - but not his thoughts. Severus had smirked at him then, when he had first made that particular resolve, and had been smirking at him all day as they wandered the village once more, as if he knew that Lucius’ curiosity would not be denied for very long. It seemed he was right.

Lucius was lying in bed, his long pale limbs stretched out on top of the covers, uncaring of his nudity, secure in the knowledge that his body would - and should - be admired. His head rested on one arm at the bottom end of the bed, his hair spread out in blond waves around his shoulders. A light sheen of sweat still glistened on his skin from sex, the activities leaving him pleasantly relaxed and lethargic; sometimes a warm bed had advantages over a bedroll on the ground. 

Severus had left their bed as soon as he had managed to catch his breath, had donned his shirt and trousers and had settled himself in the one chair their room held; he’d laid out the books and papers he had brought in front of him, beginning to read them closely. Lucius couldn’t deny his admiration of his friend’s knowledge and skills, having both been friends with the man for long enough to see it first hand, and also having benefited from that very expertise himself. It had always fascinated him, watching Severus work, that sharp intellect absorbing, sorting, evaluating information, those black eyes intense in a way that was only ever directed towards one other thing: Lucius himself.

Lucius could never claim to have Severus’ dedication to knowledge, although he knew that his own was not to be discarded either. He’d grown up a noble and as such education had been expected, something that he was afforded due to his birth, and not the privilege that it was to others. He hadn’t understood it then, choosing instead to dedicate his time to pleasure and other idle pursuits, his weapons and his body. It had paid off, he knew, for his abilities as a warrior were unsurpassed, his position in society enviable. He had lived well, enjoyed life to its full, and was satisfied with who and what he was: to be anything else would lead to a lifetime of disappointment, and if there was anything that Lucius wanted to avoid, it was that. So he stuck to his ways, and he was content.

It was not to be for Severus though. Severus had worked hard all his life, had  _ had _ to work, in order to become what he was today. For Severus, knowledge became the means by which he thrived, grew, and eventually came to be recognised. No matter how great or small it was, to him it was the tool which he could use to defeat his opponents, which he could use to control and manipulate and  _ succeed. _ It was a lesson his friend had taken to heart, Lucius supposed, and something which had stood him in good stead in later life. To Severus, knowledge was power, and Lucius admired that.

‘Severus?’ he prompted, when Severus made no move to answer him, engrossed in his reading.

‘Hm?’ The other man looked up, blinked, his eyes making a brief sweep of Lucius’ naked form, before he arched his eyebrow.

‘I asked whether you thought Harry will agree to your offer,’ Lucius repeated, not at all put out by his friend’s inattention; he had dealt with it for years. Besides, he’d caught the flash of interest in those deep black eyes, and knew it would take little effort on his part to draw Severus back into the bed. First, however, he wanted answers.

‘Oh. That,’ Severus murmured, turning back to his book. ‘Of course he’ll agree.’

‘Why do you say that?’ Lucius persisted. He trusted Severus’ judgement but wanted to understand his reasoning all the same, as he knew that his own way of thinking often added things that Severus might not have considered.

‘Well, firstly, it gives him the perfect opportunity to keep an eye on us, and what we do; secondly, if he joins us, it means that we’ll be leaving the village, something I assume he’d very much wish to happen, especially after our impromptu meeting with his sister, and the questions we have been asking,’ Severus explained. ‘He has secrets...and that interests me.’

Lucius nodded, thinking it through. ‘That makes sense.’

‘In any case,’ Severus continued, ‘he will join us out of curiosity if nothing else.’

Lucius chuckled. ‘There is that.’

‘He will be useful to us: he knows the land, the region, this place. With him, our search will be easier.’

‘Ah, but that’s assuming he will actually  _ help _ us. There’s every possibility he’ll simply string us along and lead us on a merry chase,’ Lucius pointed out.

Severus snorted. ‘Perhaps. If that happens, then we’ll simply have to persuade him to do as we ask.’

Lucius rested his head down once more, sighing quietly. ‘What if he doesn’t come?’

‘He will.’ The tone of voice negated any other option.

Lucius was amused. ‘You sound so sure.’

‘And you show little faith,’ Severus returned, his voice just as amused.

As much as he tried to fight it, there was a nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach that simply refused to leave things be. ‘You’ve spent just as long as I have with him, possibly even less time, and yet you seem so sure about him.’

Severus finally put down his quill, and turned to face Lucius. ‘If your mind were not addled by lust and by wounded pride, you would be able to think as clearly as I can,’ he pointed out. 

Lucius laughed at the surprising rejoinder, and was joined by Severus’ quiet chuckle. He turned fully onto his back then and closed his eyes, a smile still curling his lips. Yes, he couldn’t deny that he was “lust-addled” as Severus put it, when it came to Harry. When he set aside his stubbornness and pride, he could rightly say that there was just  _ something _ about the boy, something that drew Lucius to him. Whether it was his looks that appealed to Lucius, or his personality and the fact that he presented a challenge - in more ways than one - he couldn’t say. All he knew was that he and the boy were far from over, and the upcoming journey would prove to be a perfect chance to see what would happen between them.

Harry just had to say yes. 

 

\- l  e r o  i -

d  e s

\- m  a s q  u e s -

 

Later that night when the guests had all gone to bed and the tavern had been shut down for the night, Harry found himself wandering the dark corridors of the house, his feet silent on the hardwood floors. Moonlight streamed in through the windows, leaving dappled effects when a cloud crossed its white orb. He could hear wind howling outside, the patter of rain as it began to fall, and absently made a note to himself to check whether his handiwork on the roof had withstood it the next morning. 

For as long as he had been living here, the family quarters had always been separated from the guest wings. As Elizabeth constantly saw fit to remind them all: even if they lived in a tavern, it was still a home. To that end, they’d sectioned off a floor - the uppermost - of the tavern for themselves, making it restricted to guests. They each had their own rooms, his father had his small library, and there was a sitting room, where the family had made sure to have dinner together at least once a week.

That tradition had ended when Hermione had been moved out of the inn for her own safety and sanity. They’d tried, at first, to keep her with them, but that had proven too much for his sister, what with the number of strangers who frequented the place, the number of  _ men _ who visited. They’d known also that keeping her locked away in the family quarters would have been the utmost cruelty: like Harry, Hermione was a child of nature who thrived on being outdoors, in the fresh air surrounded by the scents and sounds of the woodland groves that encircled the village. The hut had been their best solution, hard as the thought had been to contemplate; now though, after almost nine years, they had become accustomed to the way of things, and it troubled them no more, not when they could see that despite everything, Hermione was happy in her little life, her little world, and they would do all they could to see it remained so.

Eventually, Harry’s wandering took him to a door, where he stopped, a smile gracing his face. He couldn’t count how many times he had come to this door, knocking on it, having no fear that it would not be open to him. He could remember so clearly himself as a child entering his father’s study, seeing the man sitting at his desk working on papers, or lying on the small couch before the fire with a book propped on his lap, his reading glasses perched on his nose. Harry would wait in the doorway until he was noticed, immediately in most cases, since he’d been rather a fidgety child - another thing which had ended, this time to the emergence of his powers: after all, having such magick literally at his fingertips necessitated vast amounts of calm to keep it under control. It was a lesson he had learned well, in the end, though at times his emotions still had the ability to overpower him.

It was the same now as then: when he opened the door he found his father at his desk, marking notations in one of his large ledgers, a smudge of ink unnoticed on his cheek. Harry smiled at that.

‘Are you busy?’ he asked quietly.

Robert looked up, a smile coming readily to his face. He put down his quill, attention shifting completely to Harry. Such had always been his way. ‘Of course not, Harry. Come in; tell me what you want.’

Harry shut the door behind him, moving over to the comfortable armchair next to the couch, shaking his head at the bowl of nuts his father offered. He sat down with a weary sigh, his shoulders slumping, and he cradled his head in his hands as he gently massaged his temples. He could feel a headache coming on, and knew that his night would be restless.

‘Son?’

Harry glanced up, his eyes faintly pleading for help. ‘I need advice...on what to do about the Death Eaters.’

His father nodded in sympathy. ‘I heard they were asking questions again today. I’d have thought they’ve asked everyone by now.’

‘One of them came to talk to me this morning.’

His father looked outraged suddenly, half rising from his seat as if to march over to the guest room that very minute. ‘The blond one again? Did something happen -’

Harry quickly shook his head so as not to worry his father any more than he had already. ‘No, nothing like that. It was the other one - Severus.’

Robert settled down in his seat once more, mollified, faint embarrassment tingeing his features at his outburst. ‘Oh. What did he want?’

‘He wanted…’ He paused, unsure of how to go on. He hadn’t told anyone about the meeting, and he wasn’t exactly sure why. He’d spent the time since in thought, and no matter how many reasons he could think of telling him to turn the offer down, that it was the safest option for everyone, that he needed to stay as far away from the Death Eaters as possible in order to keep his secrets, Hermione’s words kept repeating in his mind.

He took a breath, expelled it slowly. ‘They want me to join them in their search for Godric’s Hollow.’

Robert was still a moment, clearly unsure of what to say to that. ‘…Are you going to do it?’ his father asked slowly.

‘That’s just it!’ Harry surged to his feet, began to pace around the small confines of the room. ‘I shouldn’t, I know I shouldn’t -’ His words broke off. ‘I shouldn’t,’ he repeated.

‘But you want to anyway.’

Harry turned at the quiet words, saw his father looking at him, eyes full of concern, pride, resignation. His energy left him.

‘Yeah.’

And there it was: the “and yet” which persistently remained on the edges of his thoughts.

‘I just…’ he faltered, feeling helpless.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, even though he didn’t remember Robert rising, and took comfort from the understanding look in his father’s brown eyes.

‘It’s all right, Harry. You don’t need to explain it to me.’

Harry smiled gratefully. However mature he felt, however adult he seemed, there were still times where he desperately needed his parents’ approval, their understanding. Most of the time, they gave it.

‘I feel like I need to do this, as strange as it sounds. I  _ want  _ to do this. They’re talking about an item belonging to a Royal, and I...I guess there will never come a better time,’ he tried to explain it anyway.

‘There’s nothing wrong with that, Harry, nothing at all,’ Robert reassured him in his gentle voice. ‘You’re destined for more than life here, and you know it, no matter how much you’ve denied it all your life. Us? We’re villagers. You, though, you’re the descendant of Royals.’

‘This is my home,’ Harry whispered, his voice catching slightly on the last word.

‘And it always will be.’ His father’s scent encompassed him as Robert held him to his chest. 

Harry turned his head away, trying to get a hold on his emotions. He felt relieved, that he was understood so well, that he was so accepted, and yet at the same time, so immeasurably sad. 

‘How do I tell mum?’ 

Robert stepped away, and gave his shoulder a small squeeze. ‘She won’t be pleased, but she’ll understand. Just explain it as you did to me - as soon as possible, though: first thing tomorrow morning.’

‘I will,’ Harry promised. 

‘When do you plan to leave?’

Harry swept a hand through his hair, suddenly exhausted. ‘I don’t know. I’ll tell them I’ll come, and then it’ll be up to them. I expect it’ll be the day after at the earliest. I’ll need to pack first.’

Robert nodded in agreement.

Harry shook himself slightly, dismissing his thoughts for now. ‘I’ll worry about it tomorrow. I’m going to sleep now.’

‘Good night then, Harry.’ His father leaned forward and engulfed him in another hug, the arms tight across his back.

‘You, too.’

With that Harry waved goodnight and left the small office. Despite his tiredness though and the pain that still throbbed in his temples, he made no effort to rush to his bed, instead choosing to meander along hallways and down stairs, knowing no one would be up to see him.

His decision had at least brought him some form of peace. He’d speak to the Death Eaters tomorrow - well, Severus, he supposed, rather than Lucius, since of the two he found the former to be the easier to deal with. While Severus only unsettled him on a mental level, putting him on alert about what he was saying and doing, it was the blond who unsettled him physically, causing him to lose his hard-earned control and enraging him beyond reason. So yes, Severus it was.

As he was passing through the kitchen doorway and into the courtyard, using magick to unlock the door, and relock it behind him, he paused, glancing up at the upper levels of the tavern towards the room the two Death Eaters shared; he wondered if they were still awake despite the late hour, wondered too what they would say to his agreement to accompany them.

He supposed he would find out tomorrow. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings: This chapter contains implied historical rape of a female character and subsequent trauma/PTSD symptoms.**
> 
>  
> 
> As you can see, I don't really have a posting schedule. It will just be when I feel the next chapter is ready!
> 
> Next chapter! Goodbye Hedwig's Nest, hello camping.


	4. Chapter 4

_ Le Roi Des Masques _

 

**Part Four**

 

Harry had been right in thinking that explaining his intentions to his mother would not be the easiest of conversations. After the relatively painless declaration the night before to his father, his talk with his mother was anything but. There had been tears and anger but in the end she had accepted his decision - less than gracefully perhaps, but Harry could understand it. After all, one of her children had already been harmed, and here he was proposing to leave on a dangerous and probably foolhardy quest with two men whom Elizabeth had no reason to trust, and with no guarantee of safety. Oh she knew that Harry was perfectly capable of looking after himself, but still she worried. It was her right, he supposed.

He’d left her in the kitchen peeling potatoes just minutes before, and exhausted, trudged through the barroom and up the wooden stairs that led to the guest rooms. Pushing aside that morning, and the consequent weariness, he squared his shoulders, knowing instinctively that any weakness would be noted by the two men he was now seeking.

He knew from his father that the two men had not left the inn that day, although they had been down for breakfast. He supposed that they were awaiting his answer before determining future plans, since his acceptance or refusal of the offer would undoubtedly make the difference between their leaving and their continued presence in the village.

He paused a moment outside their bedroom door, collecting himself, battling the urge to just forget the whole thing and retreat to his stables with his horses - silent companions who never questioned, never fought him. He could lock away the need to leave this village, as he had done before. He could remain in obscurity, unnoticed and safe. But…that would be easy.

He knocked on the door.

There was the sound of shuffling inside, a bump, a low murmur of voices, and then the door before him was flung open. Lucius stood there, long blond hair loose and slightly mussed, although his grey eyes were sharp as they raked over Harry’s form. A faint smirk touched his lips.

‘Severus. We have a visitor,’ the blond drawled.

‘Let him in.’

Lucius blocked the doorway for a touch longer - just long enough to show Harry that Lucius, at least, found his presence unwelcome. Harry reined in his anger, showing only indifference to this visible power-play that Lucius wished to engage him in.

When Lucius let him pass, he stepped into the room, finding Severus sitting at the single desk, a quill flowing across the page in front of him. Harry waited in silence until the man signed the bottom of the page with a flourish, and turned his dark eyes to him.

‘I take it you have an answer,’ he asked.

Harry nodded. ‘I accept.’

His answer was succinct, and although he braced himself for further questions as to his reasons in accepting, none were forthcoming. 

Severus nodded, a very brief, almost unnoticeable quirk of his lips betraying that this was the answer he sought. ‘Very well.’

Harry relaxed marginally. ‘When do you plan on leaving?’

‘Tomorrow. Early. If that is amenable to you, of course?’

‘That’s fine.’

‘We’ll travel by horse, so make sure your own is prepared and ready for travel as well as our own mounts. Any baggage must be light, and not cumbersome, is that understood?’

‘Yes.’

‘Can you arm yourself?’ The voice was cool, the man’s black eyes unreadable.

‘“No commoner shall carry a weapon”,’ Harry quoted from the Laws, a slight ironic undertone to his words. 

‘Of course,’ Severus murmured, with a hint of approval in his eyes, having understood Harry’s underlying message that in spite of the law, Harry would indeed be able to defend himself should the need arise. While the Dark Lord’s order was strictly enforced in the capital and other cities, in the countryside, small blades were frequently overlooked for those whose lives often depended on hunting.   

‘Is there anything else you need to tell me?’ Harry asked, attempting to make his tone as deferential as possible. He didn’t really have anything against Severus and he was well aware that he was under their employ from now on, which meant they would all three be in very close proximity for an undetermined length of time. By necessity, he was determined to start off on the right foot - or as close to, anyway. To that end he’d decided that the best thing he could do was to ignore the blond as much as possible, directing all his questions to Severus.

Severus rubbed a finger along his lip, a small frown on his forehead as he thought. ‘Lucius?’

‘We’ll need provisions,’ Lucius prompted.

Severus nodded in agreement. ‘Of course.’

‘I can see to that,’ Harry interrupted, causing both men to look at him once more. ‘I’ll be seeing to the grain for the horses anyway, so I may as well see to our own. The kitchens will have everything we need.’

‘I don’t think -’ Lucius started, stepping forward in protest.

‘Are you aware of what sorts of things we will need?’ Severus asked calmly, ignoring the agitated blond.

Harry nodded.

‘I’m perfectly capable of acquiring provisions,’ Lucius argued.

Harry glanced his way, noting the down-turned lips, the spark of anger in his grey eyes.

‘No one’s saying you are incapable, Lucius,’ Severus soothed, though if Harry wasn’t much mistaken, he was holding back laughter. ‘However, with your arm still as it is, you would do well to rest it as much as possible before we move on. Besides, if Harry claims he can deal with that specific task, we should let him.’ He turned his gaze to Harry. ‘Write up a list of all you take, and I shall compensate you afterwards.’

Harry nodded, and asked, ‘Do you know your route?’

Severus glanced down at the parchment before him. ‘We were discussing that now, in fact.’ He motioned Harry closer, giving him a better view of the map that he put on top of the pile of papers before him. Harry could see the marks of the path the Death Eaters had taken to reach Hedwig’s Nest, and followed Severus’ long finger as he marked out their intended route. 

‘The geography of the area isn’t quite accurate,’ he said at last, having orientated himself. ‘But the main roads are well-known and easily accessible.’

‘I may request some advice on alterations,’ Severus acknowledged the assessment, considering the map. 

‘Of course,’ Harry murmured. ‘Is that all for now?’

When he received an abrupt nod in return, he quickly made his way out of the room and downstairs, already making a mental list of what he would need. Some of it would come from the kitchens - the bread, for example, he was certain his mother would bake for them, most likely the special dry kind which lasted longer and was therefore most suitable for long journeys. Dried fruits were best, more durable and nourishing than fresh, and he knew that they had some stored in the barns, since he used them as treats for the horses. As for the meat, he’d have to go to the butcher’s down the road to get it, but he saw no difficulty in that.

Harry had never been on as long a journey as he was sure the Death Eaters had frequently experienced, but he had spent days at a time among the outlying woods of the village, living on sparse rations he’d brought with him part of the time, and the other foraging for food among the woodland wildlife. He knew that if necessary he could find mushrooms or edible plants with which they could manage, and he was proficient enough at hunting game. At worst, he always had the Wolf to rely on, although he was certain they would never reach such a desperate state.

There were villages they could stop by to buy food, although he wasn’t sure how far north they went. Most people had long since abandoned the areas around the Hollow, either fearing possible repercussions from living there, or seeing it as hallowed ground. Whatever the reason, much of the land was uninhabited - except, of course, by the Order, who understandably took advantage of the villagers’ superstitions and made it their hiding ground.

As he fetched three leather satchels from the storage cupboard in his family’s quarters and closed the door firmly, Harry allowed himself a smile at the thrill of anticipation that suddenly ran through him, one that he had tried to keep suppressed since the entire foolish notion had entered his head. In spite of everything - his parents, the Death Eaters, the worry over his magick - he was, if only an admission to himself, actually looking forward to this trip.

 

\- l  e r o  i -

d  e s

\- m  a s q  u e s -

 

He spent the afternoon in preparations.

Gathering provisions had been as easy as he had anticipated, his mother seemingly calmer and more resigned to his decision, and therefore more than willing to help him. He’d dropped off the satchels with Severus and had had his choices approved and paid for; Lucius had been nowhere in sight. While visiting the butcher he’d stopped in to see Dennis Creevy, his usual replacement at the stables when he was elsewhere, commandeering his services for the next while.

Of course, in doing that he’d opened himself to questions as to why he was leaving, and more importantly, with  _ whom _ , which meant that by the time he finished his errand, word had already spread throughout the entire village. He’d avoided much of the questioning and speculation by taking Raiden out to visit Hermione, using the opportunity to accustom them both to riding with a saddle again, as he would need one for the trip - to attach the saddlebags if nothing else. He’d passed a good few hours with his sister,  helping her with a new set of shelves she’d wanted put up for more books. They had discussed the upcoming trip in some detail, and her approval at his decision had been obvious. 

Once home Harry had had the joy of explaining himself to Angelina and the Patil twins about his plans - something which he had no intention of repeating, as Angelina especially took it upon herself to question him extensively and force him to explain every aspect of his decision in sufficient detail as to leave her satisfied; considering he had to keep one of the major factors in his decision secret, there was little enough he could actually say. The look in her eyes when he had finished implied that she was giving him only a temporary respite. Still, she had promised to visit Hermione each day, and for that Harry would have gone through twice as much interrogating.

He and Angelina had been friends for years, from the moment they’d met and she had pushed him into the river when he was seven. In another world, another time, Harry might have even fallen in love with her, but their brief foray as lovers had shown that they were better suited as friends.

He had always thought his mother had been more upset than the two of them when their relationship ended, likely hoping that they’d get married and begin a family; Elizabeth had always loved children, one of the reasons why taking Harry in and raising him as her own had been such an immediate choice. It was a pity she’d never had more, but Hermione’s birth had been a difficult one, and the result was no more children.

As if the mere thought of his mother had conjured her, Harry recognised her footsteps coming down the flag-stoned corridor of the stables, and turned from where he was brushing Lucius’ stallion’s glossy coat, smoothing a hand over the roan’s neck when he jittered at the woman’s approach. He’d already checked the mounts earlier that afternoon and polished the tack, but he found it soothing being with the horses, and Charon was such a magnificent beast.

‘There you are Harry,’ his mother said softly, a genuine smile appearing on her face, as opposed to the forced ones she’d been wearing all day. ‘You always were good with horses.’

‘Mm,’ Harry concurred, placing aside his brush and moving to return the stallion into his stall. He’d been stubborn that first night when Harry had been told to stable him, but since then Harry had managed to charm him, and he now went as docile as a lamb, eager to do Harry’s bidding. Harry smirked, thinking about what Lucius’ reaction would be to see such a thing. Harry wouldn’t be surprised if he’d deliberately encouraged his mount to be recalcitrant towards others. Putting his own feelings for Lucius aside, Harry could understand why such a trait would be useful in a warrior’s horse: if Lucius was unseated in battle, his enemy would be unable to use Charon himself, and even out of battle the same principle applied. 

‘You spoke to Dennis?’

He nodded in reply. ‘He’ll be here tomorrow morning, and has said he won’t need a guest room as dad suggested, since he’s happy to stay at home.’

Elizabeth lifted a hand to fiddle with a bridle hanging next to her head. ‘And you’ve packed? Clothes, and a brush, and your warm cloak?’

‘Of course,’ he said gently, knowing her questions to be nothing more than worry, and willing to indulge her. ‘I’ve just got my trunk of books to shrink and store away.’

There was a pause. ‘Would you like help?’

Harry smiled, reaching out to take her hand and thread it through his arm. ‘But of course. You can even go through my pack and refold all of my clothes if it’ll make you feel better, and reassure yourself that I do indeed have everything I need.’

His mother laughed, allowing him to lead her out of the stables and up to his loft. ‘Am I really that obvious?’

‘Just a bit,’ Harry admitted, ‘but you’re entitled to it.’

Elizabeth sighed. ‘I can’t help worrying about you.’

‘You have just cause, I suppose,’ Harry said slowly. ‘After all the trouble I put you and dad through…’

It was her turn to comfort him, as she patted his arm affectionately. ‘Stop with that nonsense! You know you’ve been wonderful, and I don’t regret for a minute taking you in.’

Harry smiled again. ‘I’m glad. I don’t dare imagine what life might have been like if I hadn’t ended up with you.’

‘Yes, well. You did, and that’s all that matters now, isn’t it? We love you, and that’s that.’

She said it matter-of-factly, and that more than anything warmed Harry’s heart, the knowledge that in spite of everything, in spite of all the trouble he knew he had caused them - no matter how much they denied it, he knew it hadn’t been easy for them - they still loved him. It was that, he supposed, which was partly responsible for his previous reluctance to go seeking his family links - what need had he for people he had never met, who had abandoned him, who were most probably dead, when he had all he ever wanted here, at  _ The Gryffin’s Claw _ ?

‘Thank you.’

Some of his emotions must have been audible in his voice, since his mother’s head turned abruptly to him. Her eyes softened, and she lifted a hand to place on his cheek. ‘Silly boy, to worry about that after so long.’

Harry shrugged, forced a laugh. ‘I’m not the one worrying about my clothes. I’ve been able to dress myself for years! Well,’ he looked contemplative, a smile curling his lips, ‘I know there are still days you doubt it.’ He sent her a cheeky grin.

‘Oh hush you!’ She swatted him, pulling away as they reached his room, giving it a once-over and tutting under her breath with motherly disapproval. If listening to her berate him over his appalling house-cleaning skills got her to stop worrying, Harry deemed it well worth the bargain, and settled on his bed, fully prepared to watch her and enjoy this last evening together.

 

\- l  e r o  i -

d  e s

\- m  a s q  u e s -

 

All his life, Lucius’ pride had lain in his name, his status, and his wealth. His family was old, who - along with the Blacks and the Lestranges - had always had pride of place among the Slytherin Court, with the respect, fear and support inherent in such a position. It was something that Lucius had always been determined to uphold.

At an early age he has been taught by his father that Malfoys always deserved the best, and so the best he had had. Surrounded by the lavishness of his family’s numerous estates, the servants to do his bidding, the emblems of The House of Malfoy, his father’s words had become ingrained upon him, had become one of the main paradigms of his life. He had learned that there was no need for him to ask; he simply had to order, and it would be done. Better yet, his wishes would be anticipated without him ever having to utter them.

His induction into the Death Eaters had been a step towards securing his family’s future alongside the most powerful man to appear in centuries - a foolish notion that Lucius now despised himself for. His magick notwithstanding, the Dark Lord was a descendant of the Founders, something which automatically guaranteed him power, acceptance and prominence among all Slytherin nobles. The Malfoys were no exception.

In time, Lucius - like Severus - had seen the truth of things. However, it wasn’t the abasement required of him, or the sullying of his hands that brought about Lucius’ eventual disdain for the Death Eaters. Neither, moreover, was it the killing and torture that had disgusted Severus. The Malfoys had always been prepared to do what was necessary in order to further themselves, no matter how unsavoury. What had, in fact, abruptly ended Lucius’ continuing willingness to serve was essentially very simple: his House meant everything to him, but it meant  _ nothing _ to the Dark Lord.

To the Dark Lord, the Malfoy name, its history, its worth, was deemed irrelevant, just so long as Lucius was willing to obey orders and to serve his Master. He was treated with the same favour and worth as the countless peasants and low-born who made up the lower ranks of the Death Eaters. The Dark Lord could issue however many declarations he wished about the value of blood and purity and the extermination of the unworthy, but it all mattered nought when he raised the undeserving right up alongside the nobles, giving them equal power, equal favour. That, Lucius had decided, would not be borne.

Spurred on by the desire to advance and to put the upstart sycophants in their place, Lucius had made the best of things, and now commanded a post only surpassed by the Dark Lord himself. It was a fine position to be in, despite the danger inherent in being the Dark Lord’s favourite, and it was one that Lucius was well suited to. He had his wealth, he had his name, and he had status. He had the respect he deserved, and the acclaim he had always sought; it was enough for now.

It was that, however, which made Harry’s treatment of him so infuriating.

Harry was a commoner, the son of two tavern owners, living in a small village in the middle of Gryffindor lands, as far removed from the Slytherin Court as Lucius himself was immersed in it. There should have been nothing about him that could catch Lucius’ interest, and yet here Lucius was, watching the boy’s every move, listening to everything he said, his mind literally awash with thoughts of him.

It was the physical that had grabbed him first. Lucius had no shame in admitting to that; the boy was truly exquisite. He had none of the carefully cultivated elegance that Lucius was used to, but it did nothing to dampen his appeal. He was full of strength, vivacity, courage, with a touch of wildness that added the slightest sense of danger, the knowledge that underneath that very pleasant exterior, something more resided.

There were the secrets, too, which had drawn Severus’ interest. Lucius had once heard someone say that the desire to uncover secrets must be an inherent part of being Slytherin, and he had not yet found anyone to dispute the claim. With the desire to expose secrets also came the need to hide their own, leading to the slyness and deviousness for which Slytherins were known. Lucius and Severus were the same, but while he knew Severus would be content to simply discover Harry’s secrets, understand them and learn from them, it wasn’t enough for Lucius. Lucius wanted to  _ own _ \- both the secrets and the man who held them, and he would be satisfied with nothing less.

The desire had caught him again throughout the day whenever he turned his gaze upon the Gryffindor, with his constantly wind-ruffled hair and bright eyes. As agreed, they had set off early that morning, Harry meeting them in the courtyard with the horses, everything packed and ready. He’d dressed in a simple white shirt that emphasised his slim waist, fitted tan breeches and knee-high riding boots, a brown cloak slung over one shoulder - clothing suitable to travelling. Despite the implicit permission, Lucius had been able to see no visible weapon on Harry’s person, and though he had wondered whether the man had even bothered, he hadn’t been prepared to ask. Harry and he had divided the supplies while Severus paid their bill, all done in silence. Harry had bid farewell to his parents and they had set off just as the sun was beginning to rise, Severus’ intention being to cover as much ground as possible while they still had light.

They’d ridden hard at first, partly to work off the morning chill, and partly, Lucius knew, to determine Harry’s ability as a guide and a riding companion. He rode with ease and skill, not a word of complaint to the speed or the lack of rest, his horse seeming almost an extension of himself, so gracefully did they move - something which Lucius couldn’t help but admire, for he himself was no amateur. He also appeared confident in his decisions with regards to the route they took, which boded well for the rest of the trip.

Around midday they had slowed down, the rolling hills posing a greater risk of accidental injury due to unseen rabbit holes and hidden rocks, the three of them taking the opportunity to fill their stomachs with the bread and cheese that Harry had provided for them.

Lucius had found the voyage pleasant, the grassy slopes and woods of Gryffindor a welcome change to the rocky crags and uninhabitable marshes that characterised much of the Slytherin lands. The sky had been clear after the rainfall the day before, the ground still slightly slippery and soft. In the far distance he could see the snow-capped mountain peaks which marked the upper edge of Gryffindor lands. Somewhere between here and there lay the Hollow.

Lucius wasn’t sure what would happen once they reached the Hollow - assuming that they even did - nor what retrieving the item would entail for them and the Four Kingdoms. It made him uneasy, this unknowing, even though he should have been accustomed to it, considering the amount of years he’d spent under the Dark Lord’s rule. His position granted him access to more information than most, however, and for that he was eternally grateful.

As he shifted in his saddle, he brushed aside such thoughts with practised ease, glancing up at the darkening sky. A small frown appeared on his forehead.

‘Severus?’ he called, spurring his horse to catch up with Severus’. Up ahead, he could see Harry slowing down also, craning his head around to see the reason for the halt.

‘What is it, Lucius?’ Severus asked.

Lucius jerked his head towards the sky. ‘It’s getting dark, and we have no idea what the path ahead is like. We should think about stopping soon, and setting up camp for the night while we can still see.’

Severus nodded minutely, raising a hand to signal that Harry should join them. When the young man did so, Severus repeated Lucius’ words.

Harry raised himself in his stirrups, looking around him with narrowed eyes for a moment, before pointing at a place a little further along the road, where there was an outcropping of rocks on the edge of the forest they had been riding beside for the past hour.

‘There,’ he stated firmly. ‘It’ll give us shelter enough from the cold, as well as hide our fire. There’s also a spring nearby, so we can have fresh water.’

‘Very well,’ Severus stated. 

Lucius had been with him long enough though to know that he’d already decided to follow Harry’s lead. It seemed that throughout the course of the day Harry had already received Severus’ approval, normally hard-won, and that Severus had decided to trust his judgement in certain matters. It wouldn’t stop either of them from checking over Harry’s choice, or vetoing it if it didn’t meet their own particular standards for shelter, necessities and safety, of course, but it would allow them to again get a measure of Harry’s abilities and rationalisations. So far he hadn’t disappointed.

They set heels to horses and rode swiftly for Harry’s choice, scouting out the surrounding area for any reason to turn back, but they reached the outcropping of rocks without incident, slowing down and coming to a halt just past the first of the large crags. Just as Harry had said when choosing their campsite, they found protection from the elements, as well as a shield from view, the great rocks forming a half circle around a clear patch of grass in their centre where travellers had made camp before. A little way off, Lucius could hear a trickle of water. He gave a tiny nod of approval to Severus, and the men dismounted, followed closely by Harry.

‘Let’s get settled as quickly as possible, shall we?’ Severus asked quietly, already glancing around and determining where everything should go. ‘Lucius, if you would start unpacking and setting out bedding for everyone. Harry, I believe we’ll leave you in charge of the horses; unsaddle them, brush them down, and secure them over there.’ He pointed a short distance away next to a fairly tall rock just on the edge of the tree line. ‘They’ll need to be watered, so be sure to fetch some from the spring, and bring extra, as I will need some in order to start cooking. I shall make a start on the fire.’

Lucius nodded at Severus’ words, and saw Harry do the same. All three of them moved about the enfolding camp with efficiency and ease, making quick work of settling down for the night. Soon, a small fire was crackling merrily in a circle of stones, Severus next to it beginning to retrieve supplies from the satchels.

Lucius himself had just finished laying out the bedrolls, each positioned to form a triangle around the fire. They were quite a distance from it now, but when night time came they’d pull their beds closer to the fire for warmth. He’d thought about how to set them out, deciding in the end to place himself closest to the horses, just in case their guide decided upon a late night wander. Satisfied, he meandered over to Severus, rolling his still-aching shoulder slightly to ease the stiffness. He stopped and watched the black-haired warrior for a moment.

‘Do you need anything else for the moment?’ he asked his friend.

Severus pursed his lips. ‘No, thank you.’

A sudden breeze swept past him, ruffling his clothes and tugging on his long blond hair. He glanced around and narrowed his eyes.

‘Where’s Harry?’

Severus carried on with his activities, unperturbed by Lucius’ suspicious tone. ‘He’s gone to the spring to collect water for the horses and for dinner. He has not suddenly decided to abandon us to our fates, Lucius.’

‘Hmm.’ His reply was non-committal, his eyes fixed on the trees where he could just make out the path which Harry must have taken to get to the spring.

Almost without thought his feet started carrying him in the same direction, Severus’ sigh behind him ignored easily as he passed through the outermost shrubs and trees, making little to no sound as he walked.

It wasn’t that he really suspected Harry to be doing anything untoward - for such a thing would be remarkably unwise considering they were in the middle of nowhere - but for some reason, good sense seemed to fail the blond whenever the green-eyed young man came into question. He’d experienced lust before,  _ was _ experienced in it, and a little thing like that had never affected him in such a way before. If it had been simply that which he was dealing with, matters never would have reached this far…with Harry though, something else was drawing him to the boy. He wasn’t sure what it was exactly, but it made him uneasy.

Lucius’ steps slowed as he heard the sound of trickling water, becoming even softer as he neared the spring. From the shadows he was standing in, he could just make out movement in front of him, a slight shift to the left allowing him to see Harry crouched down in front of the water, the moonlight from above dappling over his back - his bare back, Lucius noted with some surprise, and not a little amount of interest.

His eyes swept over the boy leisurely, pausing over points of particular interest:  the way the boy’s black hair curled at the back of his neck, wet from where Harry had obviously just washed it, tiny rivulets of water running across the thin smattering of freckles on one shoulder blade, the play of muscles under his skin as he bent over the water pouches he was now filling.

_ Breathtaking _ .

‘Are you going to stand there all night?’

Had he been anyone else, Lucius might have startled at the sudden words, but he’d been a hardened warrior far too long for that.

Taking the words as the challenge they were in spite of the mild tone, Lucius stepped out from underneath the trees that had hidden him, walking forwards with measured steps, only stopping when he had nearly reached Harry’s side, close enough to touch if he so desired, and oh how he desired.  

‘We have unfinished business, you and I,’ he said conversationally, his eyes still taking in Harry’s form. 

The muscles in Harry’s back rippled as he rose to his feet and when he turned to his face him, Lucius refused to step back to allow him space, leaving scant inches between them. Harry’s eyes were narrowed and his expression wary yet defiant. ‘I’m not going to apologise.’

‘Somehow, I suspected that would be the case,’ Lucius acknowledged with a slight smile. ‘I believe our first... _ meeting _ could have gone better. I had hoped for a chance to start again,’ he told him honestly. 

Some of Harry’s wariness was replaced with surprise, and he tilted his head as he seemed to consider that. After a few moments, he finally settled on, ‘It would make travelling together easier.’

Lucius smirked at such a grudging acceptance of his truce, but supposed that may very well be the best he would get for the moment. He would take it. 

‘Good.’

Finally he let himself admire the boy’s lightly haired chest just as appreciatively as he had his back, lingering, wondering if the golden tan covered his whole body. When his eyes returned to Harry’s face, he was amused to the see the beginnings of a flush colour the smooth skin of Harry’s neck; the thought that maybe the younger man wasn’t as unaffected as he pretended to be intrigued him greatly, and spurred him onwards. 

‘You are quite the sight, bathed in moonlight like this,’ he told him softly. He reached out a hand towards the centre of Harry’s chest where shadows made an enticing target just over his heart, but remembered well their last encounter and stopped a hair's breadth away from making contact. 

There was no hand to push his own away, no step backwards. Still, he saw the fine tremor that seemed to run through Harry’s body, the sound of his breaths harsh in the quiet of the evening.

He frowned minutely and dropped his hand. 

‘Do you truly fear me?’ he asked, abandoning the smooth voice. 

It was all very well playing games with Harry, but Lucius’ intention had never been to terrify: while others of his acquaintance found pleasure in the defiling and despoiling of innocents, Lucius never sought pleasure from the unwilling.

‘Of course not,’ Harry answered testily, with just enough affront for Lucius to know he spoke the truth. There was indecision in his green eyes, but the anger from last time was muted. 

‘Then is it that I am a man?’ he asked next.

‘Not that either,’ Harry admitted after a brief hesitation. 

‘Then why?’ he persisted. ‘Do you not approve of the way I look at you?’ 

Harry let out an exasperated sigh and ran his hand roughly through his messy hair, stepping back at long last and creating some distance between them. Lucius missed the warmth of his presence.

‘I don’t approve of your intentions,’ Harry answered shortly, letting his gaze slide away. His jaw clenched, as if he were fighting with himself over whether to say more. 

Lucius waited, more patiently than he often cared to be, for he knew this was an important moment between them, and in Harry’s answer lay the foundations of their future. 

When he met Lucius’ eyes once more, they were dark with some emotion that Lucius couldn’t quite identify. ‘You’re a Death Eater,’ he said simply, ‘and I hate everything you stand for.’

Before Lucius could react to such a statement, Harry leaned over and picked up the filled water canteens and his shirt, and left without another word. 

He made no move to follow just yet, letting the brief exchange settle in his thoughts, the feeling that Harry’s words inspired a hollow ache in his gut. The twist of his lips was rueful. 

‘Most days, so do I,’ he gave his reply to the silent woods.

 

\- l  e r o  i -

d  e s

\- m  a s q  u e s -

 

Preparing dinner while they camped was a task that often fell to Severus, and it was not a role he minded overmuch. Slicing ingredients and stirring the contents of a pot were much the same, whether it was food or a potion. He would never let onto Lucius, of course, but he quite enjoyed the process, especially in the evenings after a busy day, when he could use the time to let his mind wander. 

As he deftly cut up potatoes and a few vegetables, his eyes kept drifting in the direction that first Harry, then Lucius had gone. 

He’d made a conscious decision long ago not to intervene in Lucius’ conquests - too much effort and not enough interest on his part - but he would follow their progress all the same. Sometimes it was with amusement, other times exasperation, but always with an underlying indifference. 

He couldn’t explain then why he made a subtle survey of Harry’s appearance when the young man finally returned to camp. He took note of the wet hair, the shirt draped over one arm and the two water canteens dangling from the opposite hand. He accepted the water from him with a quiet thanks, and received only a wordless nod in response before Harry made his way to the other side of the clearing. His movements were jerky and lacking his usual grace as he dropped down to sit on his bedroll and roughly tugged his shirt on again, and he spent a few minutes searching aimlessly through his satchel before eventually setting it aside in favour of staring into the small campfire. He bit absently at his thumb in one of the few nervous gestures Severus had seen. 

Unhurriedly, Severus poured the water into the pot above the fire, and when it had boiled, added his prepared ingredients for the stew. Reaching into a side pocket of his own pack, he retrieved a small vial of seasoning and sprinkled it into the pot. Travelling did not equate to substandard meals, in his opinion. In any case, many of the herbs he used for cooking also had their uses in his potions, and he was adept at sourcing them from his surroundings as he travelled. 

Only then did he look at Harry once more, and the still-brooding expression on his face. 

It seemed he was destined to intervene after all. 

‘Do you wish to discuss it?’ he offered neutrally, giving the young man the choice. 

Harry startled from his thoughts and remained silent for so long that Severus thought he had chosen to ignore the question. Eventually he spoke: ‘What do you think I should do about Lucius?’

It was not the direction Severus had thought the young man would take, and he had to work to keep the surprise off his features. He thought about his answer, wanting to maintain the right level of honesty that he and Harry had already established, but also not wanting to lead him in a direction against his will. 

‘I suppose it depends on your reason for being here,’ he answered slowly, ‘and what it is you want from us.’

There was silence again as Harry seemed to consider that. ‘What if I’m not sure what that is?’ he admitted quietly, hesitantly. 

There was comfort in the trust that Harry placed in him by revealing even that, and it was another step towards easing some of Severus’ concerns about the Gryffindor. It also made him more inclined to try and settle Harry’s confusion regarding Lucius.

‘I will not lie to you and say Lucius is without his flaws, but I can assure you if you make your refusal clear - he will respect it,’ he told him firmly. ‘And if you should choose the opposite, you will find him a very generous lover.’

For the first time in the conversation, Harry refused to meet his eyes. ‘I don’t understand how you can be so...accepting. Does it not bother you that he takes other lovers?’

Severus held back a smile; he supposed he too had once been innocent and unaware of the different forms relationships could take. ‘No, it does not. He is not beholden to me, just as I am not to him. Our friendship has only the rules we give it.’

‘But you’re not just friends?’ Harry sought clarification. 

Severus’ voice gentled minutely. ‘No, we are not just friends either.’

Harry nodded, and when it appeared he had no further questions, Severus left him to his thoughts. 

He turned his attention to stirring the stew and adding in a few more ingredients. It was a short while later that they heard Lucius make his approach, and Severus caught the flash of awkwardness in Harry’s eyes. He’d never been in a position which had required him to protect one of Lucius’ conquests from the man in question, and he found himself both amused and not a little baffled by the prospect of having to act as a buffer between the pair. ‘You can go scout the area, if you like. The food won’t be done for a while yet, and it will keep if you would rather eat later.’

Harry was quick to take advantage of the excuse to leave, jumping to his feet and wrapping his cloak around his shoulders. ‘I won’t be too long,’ he muttered, and promptly vanished into the darkness in the direction of the road they had travelled. 

A moment later Lucius appeared at the forest edge. He paused at the sight of Harry departing, and his expression remained troubled as he came over and deposited himself on Severus’ bedroll in an artless sprawl that still managed to look more refined than most people could manage. His eyes were fixed on the path Harry had taken, and it was clear that whatever had transpired between them had affected Lucius just as much if not more than their first meeting.

Still, Severus supposed introspection was an improvement on anger, so he would wait to satisfy his own curiosity.

It was proving to be a singularly interesting journey. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took so much editing. Let's say 16 year old me wasn't quite as serious about consent issues as 28 year old me...
> 
> Edit 20/06/18: I made a minor change to one line as I'd slightly messed up the geography of the Four Kingdoms... >_> You probably won't notice. 
> 
> Next chapter! A ghost from Lucius' past catches up to him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **See End Note for chapter warnings.**

_ Le Roi Des Masques _

 

**Part Five**

 

As they continued their journey over the next few days, Harry and the two Death Eaters fell into something of a routine. They rose early in the morning in order to cover as much ground as possible during daylight hours, each of them dealing with their appointed tasks efficiently and with little conversation. Under Severus’ instructions, they avoided most of the smaller villages, only stopping at the occasional larger town to resupply and to seek information. At night, they set up camp, Harry finding spots with good shelter and water close by, his decision now accepted without comment from the warriors. 

After his talk with Lucius, Harry felt that some of the tension between them had dissipated; it seemed Lucius had been serious in his desire to start over. 

He worried that he’d revealed far too much that night, that Lucius would somehow be able to see through him to the cause of his hatred; but the Death Eater had remained silent on that particular topic, and although Harry occasionally caught him staring at him intently, he’d made no further advances, for which Harry was grateful. 

Severus’ words kept replaying in his mind. 

The idea of two men or two women in a relationship wasn’t new to him - everyone in Hedwig’s Nest knew that Mrs Figg’s “live in companion” was more than that, and Zacharias was a practiced flirt among the young men of the village - but he’d never seen a relationship quite like theirs. The more he watched them, the more he could pick up on the affection and longevity of their relationship, subtler than his own parents, but there nonetheless. 

It was obvious there were no secrets between them, either. From his first interaction with Severus, the man had known of Lucius’ interest in him - he had shown no jealousy, just humour on the matter. Every conversation since had only confirmed it, had even turned into unspoken encouragement if Harry weren’t mistaken. 

How was it possible to accept something like that - to allow one another to seek out other partners? That was a concept he had difficulty understanding; he wasn’t sure he’d be able to share his lover with another.

It was a moot point, he kept having to remind himself when he became too preoccupied with his thoughts. 

They were Death Eaters - agents of the Dark Lord - and he was already too close. 

He had to protect his secrets, and remember that he was here to do a job, nothing more. 

He wasn’t going to get involved - no matter how  _ generous _ Lucius might be. 

  
  


\- l  e r o  i -

d  e s

\- m  a s q  u e s -

 

For all that they were on the main thoroughfare through the north of Gryffindor, they met surprisingly few people - it was nearing the end of the travel season after all, and the closer they came to winter, the fewer still would choose to dare the roads. Away from the busier cities and towns local travel routes were often poorly maintained and turned treacherous in poor weather. They passed the odd trade caravan, and one of the large stagecoaches that served to link the kingdoms, but they mostly had the roads to themselves. 

On the fourth day as they rode along the grassy ridge that passed for a road in these parts, Harry picked up on the telltale sounds of people approaching, and it was unexpected enough that he slowed Raiden down to a trot to let the Death Eaters catch up to him. 

‘There’s someone up ahead,’ he explained in response to Severus’ questioning glance. 

It didn’t take long for their fellow travellers to come into view: a small wagon lumbered awkwardly ahead of them, the horse hitched to the traces clearly malnourished and fatigued, causing the tall thickset man in the driver’s seat to curse it loudly. In the back of the wagon atop a pile of furs sat a visibly pregnant young woman with long black hair and a faded grey dress, while another younger man walked beside the wagon, his clothes equally in need of repair. 

Harry felt a jolt in his stomach as he noticed both the man and woman wore shackles on their wrists, attached with chains to a heavy iron ring on the back of the driver’s seat. 

‘Slavers,’ Lucius said disdainfully, his lip curling upwards in a sneer. 

It was the first time Harry had seen him react negatively towards an aspect of his Lord’s regime. 

While slavery was not as common in the Four Kingdoms as it was in neighbouring countries, it still existed, but those who practised it were looked down upon more often as not, and only the desperate or the unconscionable chose such a job.

Harry felt a hand touch his shoulder, and looked to the side to find Severus motioning him to follow. 

‘Come. There’s enough room to pass; we can be on our way,’ Severus said quietly.

Harry’s heart sank. ‘You’re not going to do anything for them, are you?’ 

‘It is a distasteful practice, but ultimately not our concern,’ Lucius pointed out, not unkindly. 

‘You’re meant to protect the Kingdoms - its subjects,’ he argued, though he knew it was pointless in the face of their dismissal.

‘Slavery is legal under the Laws, Harry,’ Severus added, although he too looked uncomfortable, ‘and we have other business to attend to…’ 

He trailed off as his eyes drifted back to the wagon once more which had now rumbled to a halt, the driver scrambling down and seizing a whip. For the first time he gave the three men watching him a clear view of his face. Severus’ eyes widened in surprise. ‘I’ll be damned,’ he murmured to himself. ‘Lucius!’ he called sharply.

Lucius, who was already turning his horse to retrace their path, glanced over his shoulder. There was a moment of deja vu as his features too showed surprise before morphing into something cold and unforgiving.

‘Thorfinn Rowle,’ he whispered. He and Severus shared a long, hard look.

Harry glanced from one man to the other, his attention diverted for the moment at this new predicament. ‘You  _ know _ him?’ he asked incredulously.

‘Once,’ Severus explained, not breaking eye contact with his blond companion. ‘He was a Death Eater and servant to the Dark Lord, but some years ago he angered our Lord and fled in disgrace and fear. No one ever knew what had happened to him.’

At last the two men broke eye contact, matching expressions of hard-edged anticipation appearing on their faces. While Lucius looked once more to the so-called Rowle, Severus turned to Harry.

‘If you wish to free the slaves, then do so. We have our own score to settle with Thorfinn.’

Harry felt a chill run down his spine at the deadly proclamation, but pushed any misgivings he may have felt to the side and nodded.

Their decision made, the three of them guided their horses forward to close the distance between them and Rowle’s wagon, where the man had now proceeded to beating the weary horse in an attempt to induce it to move.

Harry dropped back as the other two carried on forward, watching the unexpected reunion unfold.  

‘Well, well, well. If it isn’t our dear Thorfinn!’ Lucius called out as they approached.

Rowle’s head snapped up, and on seeing the Death Eaters, his square face turned an alarming shade of white; he dropped the whip and groped under his feet a moment before pulling out a thick wooden cudgel which he held out in front of him.

Lucius and Severus led their horses to the man, circling him like predators with deadly intent. 

‘For shame,’ Severus sneered. ‘A slaver, now? Look how the mighty have fallen.’

Rowle’s lips trembled slightly, and he forced them into a semblance of a smile. ‘Severus. Lucius. It’s been a long time.’

‘It has.’ Lucius unsheathed his sword and the glint of the metal in the sunlight matched the steel of his eyes; it brought little comfort to the ex-Death Eater.

‘Too long, even, some might say,’ Severus continued dryly, his expression no less menacing as he too drew his weapon. 

Rowle’s eyes flew from one man to the other, trying and failing to keep them both in his sights. Severus’ sword snaked out and caught the edge of the cudgel, forcing it from Rowle’s hands to drop uselessly on the ground. The man yelped and scrambled backwards, but Severus was faster, swinging his blade into Rowle’s path, the sharp edge steady against Rowle’s throat. 

‘You’ve escaped your fate long enough, Thorfinn. It’s time to pay for what you did,’ he gave his verdict.

‘No, please -’

From behind, the butt of Lucius’ sword struck Rowle’s head, and he crumpled like an abandoned marionette. Both Death Eaters dismounted, coming to stand above the groaning man. 

At last Severus looked up, over to Harry. ‘See to them!’ he ordered.

Harry turned his attention to his new charges, ignoring the rapid beat of his pulse and the faint nausea in the pit of his stomach at such casual violence. 

The two slaves were looking on with wary hope in their eyes, and this close, Harry could see the dirt that encrusted their faces, the thinness, the lines of pain. He sent them a quick smile which he hoped was comforting, and led his horse over to the back of the wagon where he dismounted. 

‘It’s all right,’ he murmured to the man and woman. ‘You’ll be alright now. What are your names?’

The man hesitated before answering. ‘Cedric. Cedric Diggory, and she’s Cho.’

Harry nodded, and reached for the cuffs at Cedric’s wrists. He glanced at the Death Eaters, where Severus was kneeling at Rowle’s side and searching him for further weapons. Reluctant to interrupt, but even more unwilling to actually venture over to them, he called, ‘Severus! I need keys.’

A brief rifle through Rowle’s pockets had Severus retrieving the ring of keys, which he promptly threw over to Harry.

Harry made quick work in unlocking the shackles of the two slaves and watched with sympathy as they rubbed their red-chafed wrists. Cedric moved to help Cho down from the wagon, putting an arm round her in comfort and support. 

‘Harry.’

He startled at Lucius’ summons, but joined him nonetheless a short distance from both the slaves and Rowle. 

The tension in his body was obvious, the anger in his eyes momentarily checked, but still there under the surface, dangerous and lethal. ‘Take the wagon and the slaves and ride on ahead. Set up camp, but not too far. We shall join you when we’re done,’ Lucius instructed brusquely. 

Harry had no intention of arguing, not now. He’d known who Lucius and Severus were,  _ what _ they were, and he was no innocent himself, had felt death at his hands. Whatever Rowle’s history with them, the man would not survive; Harry only hoped he deserved his fate - this was not something Harry could prevent, nor did he know if he  _ should _ . 

The slaves would be released; he would have to take comfort in that. 

‘I’ll need to swap horses,’ he focused on the practical, a distraction from more unpleasant thoughts. ‘This one won’t manage any longer.’

‘Do what you must.’

He checked over the wagon-horse, grimacing at the welts across the mare’s back and the sweat that slicked her body. Once they were settled he would care for her, but for now the best he could do was release her from the wagon’s traces and tie her halter to the back of the cart, hitching Raiden in her place. 

Though uncertain, the promise of food and rest was enough to entice Cedric and Cho to follow him - what else were they to do in their current state? - and Harry helped them into the back of the wagon, covering them with furs from a pile that Rowle had likely intended to sell. 

Harry took his place in the driver’s seat and nudged Raiden onwards. 

He didn’t look back. 

 

\- l  e r o  i -

d  e s

\- m  a s q  u e s -

 

They exacted their vengeance with an efficient brutality known only to those who had lived and suffered. 

Rowle pleaded, even though in the depths of his traitorous heart he must have known it would not help his cause; his fate had been ensured the moment he’d played his part bringing about the death of Lucius’ wife. 

Now he hung from a tree, a corpse with sightless eyes, his face twisted in terror and pain. 

After all these long years justice had been served, retribution enacted, and Lucius felt satisfaction that the vow he’d made so long ago had been fulfilled. Narcissa couldn’t have asked any more of him than he’d given. 

He startled slightly when he felt Severus come up behind him, the long well-known fingers of his friend brushing over his hair in silent comfort. He glanced over his shoulder, met the deep black eyes, and lifted a hand to trace along Severus’ cheek.

‘It’s done,’ he whispered.

Severus nodded. ‘Yes.’

Lucius smiled, though the expression was anything but gentle, the bloodlust yet to fully abate. ‘I’m sure the Dark Lord will also be very pleased to learn of Thorfinn’s death. He escaped what was coming to him far too long.’

‘A side benefit only,’ Severus murmured. ‘Come. We should find Harry. We spent a great deal of time here.’

Lucius glanced up, and the darkening sky above them showed just how long his revenge had taken them. Funny that, since it had seemed that only moments had passed.

‘Of course.’

He shook himself back into activity, the two men making quickly for their horses, leaving Rowle’s body behind for the animals and elements.

 

 

\- l  e r o  i -

d  e s

\- m  a s q  u e s -

 

It had taken slightly longer than usual to set up camp, but Harry had managed. He’d found a clearing at the edge of the woods where the road continued on into open farmland once more, where the ground was flat enough to lead the wagon. He’d started a fire, unhitched Raiden from the wagon and set the horses loose to graze after checking the bay mare’s more serious injuries.

Afterwards, he’d dealt with dinner - nothing as fancy as Severus could conjure up, but enough to satisfy hungry stomachs, which was just as well, since his latest companions were half-starved as it was. After wolfing down the filling fare, the two of them had answered a few of Harry’s questions, but Harry had seen the exhaustion on their faces and in their bodies, and hadn’t had the heart to keep them up any longer when it was clear all they wanted was rest. So they had arranged Rowle’s furs into a bed in the wagon, and the two of them had fallen asleep almost at once.

Harry, meanwhile, had contented himself with sitting by the fire and glancing through one of the books he had brought with him in his shrunken trunk, which he’d only managed to look at on the rare occasions when he found himself alone - most often in the dead of night when he was on watch. He’d thought that they might give him insight into the exact location of Godric’s Hollow, but they’d proved only marginally useful so far, reminding Harry of his long-forgotten heritage more than anything, their route not at all.  

He tried not to let his mind wander to Severus and Lucius, and what they may be doing as day turned to evening, and then to night. 

He had only just packed away his shrunken chest in his saddlebags when Severus and Lucius rode into camp at a slow pace, Severus quiet and solemn, while Lucius looked somehow bone-tired and invigorated at the same time, in a way that Harry couldn’t quite comprehend. He couldn’t see any obvious sign of what they’d done, but if he let the Wolf surface just a touch, he could smell it, the faintest traces of blood brought in by the breeze.

He watched the two men dismount and was about to offer to take care of the horses, but it seemed they were intent on doing it themselves. They were competent and thorough, and when the horses were tied beside the others, Severus waved Lucius off as he sorted through their belongings. 

The blond came over to Harry, his movements full of restrained energy, his fingers tapping a speedy rhythm on his sword-hilt. At the same time though, Harry could sense contentment within him. His grey eyes swept over the camp, lingering on the two sleeping slaves, before finally shifting to Harry, almost seeming to pierce him with the intensity of his gaze.

Trying to hide his sudden discomfort, Harry cleared his throat. ‘There’s dinner, if you want some.’

‘Not right now, thank you,’ Lucius declined. 

The following silence was a touch awkward, but before Harry could try and continue the conversation, Lucius was walking away from him, wandering to the fringes of the camp and beyond. Harry felt a sudden twinge of worry, scrambling to his feet with the intention of going after the retreating blond.

‘Let him go.’

Harry reluctantly lowered himself to his seat again, watching as Severus joined him; he’d stripped off his armour, and dropped it beside his saddlebags as he sat opposite Harry. 

‘Is he all right?’ Harry asked, then at once felt foolish, because it was obvious to anyone who could see that Lucius was far from “all right”.

Severus paused a moment before answering, his eyes straying to the trees that Lucius had passed through. ‘He will be, come morning,’ he answered finally. 

Harry hesitated. ‘If killing Rowle did that to him -’

Severus’ head snapped round, cutting off Harry’s words. ‘Thorfinn Rowle’s death was long in coming and most thoroughly deserved, I assure you. He was a traitor and a coward, and betrayed Lucius’ trust in a most grievous way. Neither of us will feel a shred of remorse for what happened to him.’

Harry believed the truth of Severus’ soft-spoken words. He could not, however, suppress his curiosity. ‘What did he do?’

Severus stared at him for a few long moments, clearly weighing up what Harry could be told. At last he settled back against his saddlebags, stretching out his long legs in front of him, his arms folded across his chest.

‘Lucius had a wife, some many years ago,’ the man revealed.

Harry jerked in shock. ‘I…didn’t know.’

He should have, he supposed, since a man of Lucius’ status and wealth was hardly going to remain unmarried - out of need for an heir if nothing else. As it was, he supposed that he’d simply not thought marriage possible, considering the relationship between Lucius and Severus.

‘No, I didn’t suppose you would. They were betrothed at a young age, but married quite late, after Lucius had established himself as a prominent Death Eater.’ He paused, the silence so long that Harry almost thought he wouldn’t continue.

‘And Rowle?’ he prompted.

‘He killed her,’ Severus whispered, his eyes locked on the flames in front of him. ‘Oh, not directly, but it was his fault nonetheless:  _ his  _ carelessness and  _ his _ foolishness that led to her death. He was meant to protect her, and instead he led her straight into a trap. He survived, and she did not. He fled, of course, in fear, like the maggot he is. Lucius vowed vengeance, and I along with him, but we could never find him. Until now.’

That was something Harry could understand, and he felt a swell of compassion. ‘He must have loved her very much,’ he said softly.

Severus appeared surprised. ‘Love? I would hardly call it love. I suppose in his own way, he did, but theirs was an arranged marriage, and love is neither expected nor required. They were...content, and Lucius is a man that believes strongly in keeping his word.’

‘Oh.’ Harry bit his lip lightly, trying to process that. ‘How long were they married?’

‘Five years. They had a son, too. His name is Draco - he’s about your age, now.’ 

That was an unsettling thing to learn, and Harry wasn’t sure how he felt about it, but it seemed Severus was had finished with that topic of conversation as he gave a weary yawn. ‘What of your slaves?’

It was an odd question for someone who hadn’t cared about the slaves prior to Rowle’s identity being revealed, but Harry decided to let it pass. ‘They didn’t say much. They helped set up camp, and went straight to sleep after dinner. He’s a Hufflepuff by birth, and is the son of a rich landowner - or was, anyway, until his father died and he lost the farm. He was out looking for work when Rowle came across him and impressed him into slavery.’

‘And the girl?’

‘Cho Chang, came to Ravenclaw as a child with her father, and that’s pretty much all I know about her - she didn’t say much, and left most of the talking to Cedric. He appears to be looking out for her.’

Severus brushed his lower lip with a finger. ‘She’s pregnant too, about half-way along from what I could see. Did they mention any other family?’

Harry shook his head. ‘I didn’t ask.’

‘Very well. We shall have to speak to them further,’ Severus said. ‘What do you plan to do with them?’

Harry’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Me?’

Severus smirked briefly. ‘You wanted to rescue them - they’re your responsibility now. Decide what you want to do.’

Harry contemplated the best course of action: he’d have to compromise between Cedric and Cho joining them, which he was sure the Death Eaters wouldn’t appreciate, and leaving them to fend for themselves, which Harry was very much against. ‘If they could travel with us as far as the next main town, we could leave them there.’

‘That is possible,’ Severus conceded. ‘As long as it does not take us from our own course.’

It was as fair an agreement as he was likely to get, and more than Harry had expected. ‘I’d make it up to you,’ he promised.

Severus waved his hand in dismissal. ‘I don’t doubt that you would. They will need provisions, however, if we are to settle them somewhere and allow them to travel onwards.’

‘Take it from my pay,’ Harry was quick to offer. ‘We have no need of the wagon or the horse, and they may be able to trade or sell the furs.’

‘True. Have you looked at the horse? Will it even manage the journey?’

‘She should do. She’s fairly young, though badly treated. It’s nothing rest and a good diet won’t sort out. I’ll have Raiden continue pulling the wagon for now, to give her some time to heal.’

Severus nodded in agreement. ‘I’ll give you some salve tomorrow for any sores or wounds she may have.’

Harry smiled in gratitude. ‘Thank you.’

‘It’s settled, then.’ Severus rose to his feet.

‘Do you want me to take first watch?’ Harry asked.

‘No, I’ll do it. I’d like to speak to Lucius in any case. You sleep, and I’ll wake you later.’

Harry nodded, the prospect of sleep suddenly making his body feel heavy and he lifted a hand to cover a sudden yawn. He settled himself into his bedroll, letting his body relax to the faint sounds of the woods and the crackle of the fire. He closed his eyes and found himself drifting off to sleep within moments. 

 

\- l  e r o  i -

d  e s

\- m  a s q  u e s -

 

He made a handsome figure standing at the edge of the woods, a dark silhouette against the clear star-studded sky, one arm raised and leaning against the rough-barked tree beside him, looking out onto the open plains below. His hair glinted silver in the moonlight, giving him an ethereal touch, making him look more than the mortal man he was. He’d always looked  _ more _ to Severus, for as long as he’d known him. 

He remembered how Lucius had been just after Narcissa’s death: his pain almost tangible, positively thrumming with tension. Severus had felt it as if it were his own, the openness and rawness of it a sharp pulse in the air for weeks.

He’d been at a loss as to what he should do. He had always been able to deal with Lucius’ other emotions: the sharp, stinging temper, the icy rage, the rare brightness of his happiness - but Lucius’ pain had always undone him.

They’d had arguments, he remembered, endless arguments about Rowle, the Dark Lord, and Narcissa. Lucius hadn’t been able to heed reason, so consumed as he was by anger. Severus had been out of his mind trying to find something that would bring Lucius back into himself, until eventually, the answer had made itself known: Draco, the son, the small boy who needed his father, needed him more than ever now that his mother was lost to him.

Miraculously, it had worked. Lucius had been soothed somewhat, turning his attention to raising his son to be strong and powerful, a suitable heir for the Malfoy name. Severus had been named his godfather, a title he had been reluctant to take at first, not knowing anything about children or the raising of them. He was glad he’d agreed though. He’d never have children of his own, and Draco provided him an outlet for that need of his to teach, to pass on his knowledge. Severus and Lucius had raised him together, and though he was undoubtedly Lucius’ son - his looks could show nothing else - he was part of Severus too, and at times he wasn’t sure who was the more proud of how the boy had turned out.

They would all take comfort in Thorfinn’s death.

He walked forwards, brushed aside a plant in his way, and stopped a few paces behind his friend.

‘Lucius,’ he greeted softly.

‘Is Harry asleep?’ Lucius’ soft voice came from in front of him, the man turning round to face him. His eyes were clear, peaceful, the rest of his body at ease. Severus had never doubted that Lucius would be all right.

‘Yes.’

Lucius nodded, glancing momentarily to his left at the sound of leaves rustling, before turning his eyes back to Severus. ‘You should have stayed to guard them,’ he admonished gently.

Severus shrugged his shoulders. ‘We are not far enough away that we cannot reach them if anything happens, and I hardly think that there is a great danger to be found out here.’ He paused. ‘Besides, I wished to see you.’

Lucius sent him a crooked smile, and it eased some of the lingering strain around Severus’ heart. Lucius sighed softly and started walking towards him, his expression tender. He reached out his hand, curled it around Severus’ neck, the brush of his fingertips causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end.

‘Ah, Severus,’ Lucius whispered, his voice full of affection. He leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on Severus’ forehead, leaving his lips there. Severus closed his eyes, revelling in the closeness of it, and turned his head into Lucius’ neck, pressing tight against it, the scent of Lucius strong even under the layers of sweat and blood that still lingered.

They stood there for long moments, connected, close, comforted and comforting. When at last they drew back from each other, Severus sighed in faint disappointment.

‘We need to get back,’ he said quietly, shaking his black hair away from his face, even though in the next instant it fell back in the exact place.

Lucius nodded, and the two of them started back towards camp, spirits still subdued somewhat, but far lighter than they had been.

‘I spoke to Harry about tomorrow.’

‘Oh?’

‘Mm. We’ll be taking the slaves with us as far as the next town. The detour should not be great, and if we ride hard afterwards we’ll be sure to make up for lost time,’ he explained.

‘It’s not as if we have a time limit, exactly,’ Lucis murmured, ‘and even I wouldn’t leave them out here on their own and unguarded, especially in the state she’s in.’

‘I’m glad we agree. Harry has said that any money we spend on them or provide them with may come out of his pay for being our guide.’

Lucius snorted dismissively. ‘The sum of money they require is hardly something to quibble over. Whatever they need, I’ll pay for it.’

Severus sent his friend a shrewd look. ‘And if such a gesture also endears you towards Harry…’

Lucius’ lips twitched. ‘I’m sure I have no idea what you mean.’

‘Of course.’ Severus chuckled.

Their footsteps crunched through the red leaves that had fallen to the ground, but otherwise they were silent as they walked, reaching the camp with little trouble. Severus swept his eyes over it, pleased to see that everything was as he’d left it: the two slaves were huddled close together in the wagon, furs covering them; the horses were crowded together, heads low as they dozed; Harry slept in his place by the fire on his side, his left arm flung up under his head to act as a pillow, his right hand fisted in the blankets of his bedroll, and it was to him that Lucius moved, and Severus inexorably followed.

‘He’s beautiful, isn’t he?’ Lucius whispered, his grey eyes sweeping over the boy, the face softened by sleep, the lips parted slightly and the messy black hair even more so. ‘And he continues to surprise...’

Severus didn’t say anything, Lucius’ comment needing no reply, since it was clear what Lucius already thought. However, at that moment, Severus had to agree. Harry didn’t have the same elegance and poise as Lucius, which had so attracted Severus, so different as it was to his own lankiness and mismatched looks. He couldn’t deny Harry’s appeal though, a sort of reliable down to earthness, but overlaying that there was -  _ something _ \- undeniably so. It was that  _ something _ which made him stand out, and which had so caught Lucius’ attention.

It was not only his looks or bearing though, no. He was bright and stubborn, clever, but lacking the arrogance that so many of Slytherin’s nobles had. He was caring and his determination simply had to be admired. He was still young enough not to have been stripped of all his innocence, but there was something dark in him too, enough that his goodness didn’t become cloying.

He was special.

He was unique.

Over the past few days, Severus had grown to like him, and the same could not be said about many.

As he watched Lucius in that moment and saw the way he looked at the sleeping boy, he recognised it for what it could become, and a small frisson of unease passed through him.

He had never minded Lucius’ infatuations before now, but Lucius had never been interested before in someone such as Harry.

He’d have to think long and hard on the matter. No matter Severus’ feelings, Lucius always came first, and always would.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings for non-graphic descriptions of violence, brief animal cruelty, and minor character death.**
> 
> Next chapter! Harry learns more about their new companions, and their arrival in town threatens to expose Harry's secrets.


	6. Chapter 6

_ Le Roi Des Masques _

 

**Part Six**

 

Harry woke the next morning to the sound of heated conversation nearby. He blinked sleepily as he sat up in his bedroll, stretching his back and twisting his neck to get the kinks out; for all his experience of it, sleeping on the ground was never that pleasant. He saw Lucius sitting awake opposite him, dressed but without his armour, sipping from a metal cup. Harry frowned in question, but Lucius simply shrugged and waved his cup in the direction of the wagon, where Cedric and Cho were engaged in what seemed to be a low-voiced argument. 

Sensing no real urgency, Harry took his time waking and dressing, finally preparing himself a cup of tea from the little kettle above the fire, which he carried with him as he made his way over to the wagon.

‘Morning,’ he greeted, and the two ex-slaves suddenly stopped talking, Cho’s expression faintly guilty, while Cedric’s leaned more towards wariness. It seemed a night’s rest had restored them somewhat, but also raised their suspicions. They still didn’t know what to expect from their impromptu rescuers, but Harry was determined to put their fears to rest soon enough. ‘You sleep all right?’ Harry directed at Cho in particular.

‘Morning, Harry.’ Cho’s smile was somewhat tentative. ‘It was fine, yes. The furs were soft and very warm.’

‘Good, I’m glad.’ Harry took a sip of his tea, trying to find the best phrasing for what he wanted to say. ‘I wanted to ask you whether you’d made any plans for going home...or if there was something more we could do for you. We thought we’d escort you as far as the next town, but then we’d have to go on our way.’ 

Cedric and Cho shared a short glance, and the former swallowed hoarsely. ‘You’re letting us go?’

Harry’s stomach clenched. ‘Of course,’ he confirmed gently. 

Cedric let out a choked sound, the tension in his shoulders draining from him; the hand he lifted to cover his eyes was shaking. Harry could see he’d tried so hard to be brave for Cho, but his own relief was painful to watch. 

Cho reached out a hand to lay on Harry’s arm. Weeks of difficulty and neglect had left their mark on her pretty features, but the gratitude shone from her dark eyes even as they brimmed with tears. ‘ _ Thank you _ .’

Harry’s expression softened even further, and he placed a hand over Cho’s, squeezing gently. ‘There’s no need, Cho. I couldn’t have done anything else.’

‘And them?’ Cedric had composed himself somewhat and now motioned towards the fire; on noticing the attention, Lucius merely raised his cup in a mocking salute.

Harry frowned at the unnecessary antagonism - he was trying to put them at ease, not worry them further. ‘They agreed, too,’ he assured them. 

‘They knew Rowle,’ Cedric insisted. 

Harry held back a wince. Sharing that Rowle’s presence was the decisive factor in why they were now free wasn’t going to help anyone. The result would have to justify the cause. ‘At one point,’ he agreed. 

‘What...happened to him?’ Cho whispered. 

‘You don’t need to worry about him,’ Harry reassured her, hoping they would understand his meaning. 

Cho’s hand left his, and she reached for Cedric - who was already moving towards her and drawing her into his arms. 

Feeling like an intruder in a private moment, Harry returned to Lucius, standing to finish his tea. 

‘Shall we wake Severus?’ he asked.

Lucius shook his head. ‘Let him sleep a while longer. With our extra travelers we’re in no immediate rush. We can afford a leisurely start.’ He leaned forward to refill his cup, adding some extra water to the kettle. 

Harry paused mid-sip, looking at Lucius carefully. Lucius didn’t seem to be angry about the matter, nor did he have that same turbulent air as yesterday which had so worried him; as Severus had promised, he was back to his usual self. ‘All right, then. Did Severus mention our discussion last night - about Cho and Cedric?’ he clarified, although he was sure that his other discussion with Severus would eventually become known.

Lucius nodded. ‘Yes, except for one aspect - I’m happy to pay their way.’

Harry’s eyebrows rose. ‘Are you sure?’ 

‘Of course.’

Harry was now the one whose smile was tentative, incredulous that Lucius was willing to do such a thing for him. ‘Thank you.’

Lucius shrugged gracefully, dismissively, but Harry found he didn’t mind so much.

Both he and Lucius looked up when Cedric and Cho came over, Harry showing they were welcome by moving to the side so they could sit on his abandoned bedroll. Lucius directed them to help themselves to their own tea and after a brief hesitation where Lucius pointedly ignored them and Harry nodded encouragement, they did.

Lucius motioned Harry to sit down beside him, but Harry declined, not sure that he wanted to sit down so close to Lucius right now; the man had a tendency to unnerve him when they occupied the same space, and Harry decided he wasn’t quite ready for that this early in the day.

‘I’m going to check over the mare while we have some time. She had a couple of sores on her back which I’m a little concerned about, but Severus said he’d give me some cream for them.’

‘You’ll have to wait for Severus to wake so he can give them to you; I wouldn’t recommend attempting to find it yourself,’ Lucius advised with a smirk. ‘There’ll be hell to pay if you disrupt his system.’

Harry grinned. ‘I wasn’t planning to, but thanks for the warning.’

With that he gulped down the rest of his tea before going over to the pinto mare, whom he’d taken to calling Ceres after finding out she had no other name. He’d washed out any open wounds on her back from Rowle’s whip the night before, but carefully checked them over this morning, also making sure her legs and hooves were clean. He then brushed her coat and mane free from dirt and tangles, finding comfort in the soothing routine movements. Every now and again he had to push Raiden away from him, his horse having taken to nuzzling the back of his neck for attention and nipping at the tips of hair.

A short while later he saw that Severus was awake; the tall man stretched and went to wash his face with water taken from a barrel they’d found in the wagon. A quick word from Lucius had Severus reaching into his bag and withdrawing his pouch of vials and lotions, selecting a few of them and returning the others to his bag before making his way over to Harry.

‘Hullo.’ Harry smiled.

Severus, never one for conversation at first waking, merely grunted in reply and handed over three small bottles to Harry. He pointed at the vial filled with yellowish oil. ‘Arnica: use it on the bruises and the swelled joints.’ He pointed to the next vial. ‘Sage: put it on and around any open wounds - it’s a disinfectant, and will aid in healing. The last one is a salve made of Comfrey. It goes on the same as the Sage. Use as much as you want, and return the rest when you’re done.’

Harry nodded, looking down at the vials, the tops of each labelled with Severus’ spidery scrawl. ‘Thanks.’

‘Breakfast will be ready soon. I’ll inform you when it’s time to eat.’

Severus walked away without another word, leaving Harry to it. He was familiar enough with the herbs Severus had mentioned, having learned about the local flora and fauna from his mother, who’d often acted as doctor to the village. Harry worked slowly and carefully, combining the potions with his Gift, just enough to boost their natural properties to make the healing process slightly faster. 

When he heard Cho call over to him, he quickly wiped his hands, patted both the mare and Raiden, and wandered over to the others, settling down in the space next to Severus and taking his full bowl from Cho - today’s fare was porridge flavoured with cinnamon. 

‘I’ve been looking where to go next,’ Severus said when everyone was settled down and occupied with eating. ‘There are several villages along our route, but the nearest town appears to be Ottery St. Catchpole, about thirty miles from here.’

Lucius nodded to himself. ‘How long do you think it’ll take us to get there?’

Harry did some quick calculations. ‘Well, as long as we’re not in a rush, we  _ could _ make it by tonight. The wagon will slow us down, some, but it will mean we won’t need to stop and rest the horses as much.’

Severus scraped the edges of his bowl with his spoon. ‘Acceptable. What are you doing about the horses?’

‘I can drive the wagon with Raiden, and Cho and Cedric can ride in the back with me,’ Harry proposed, as that way Lucius and Severus could remain mounted while the mare rested. 

Severus and Lucius gave their agreement, and soon breakfast was cleared away and the small, unusual group began to prepare to leave. Lucius saw to the warriors’ mounts, while Harry hitched Raiden into the wagon and Cedric helped load the few things they’d removed back into the wagon.  At his questioning look, Cedric shrugged in faint embarrassment. ‘Rowle had me doing most of the work.’

Harry nodded and left it at that.

They departed soon afterwards, Harry happily ensconced in the driver’s seat. While Raiden was more used to riding than pulling a cart, he took to it willingly, well-trained enough that Harry didn’t need to concentrate overmuch to direct him, and could instead give his attention to his newest companions. 

‘Will you tell me more about yourselves?’ Harry posed it as a question, leaving the choice to them. 

‘If you wish.’ Cho settled back into her furs, one arm outstretched along the edge of the wagon to keep her in place, the other resting over her protruding stomach. She was clearly more at ease now than the night before. ‘I lived in Grey Lady, along the southern coast of Ravenclaw. Do you know it?’

‘I’ve not been outside Gryffindor,’ Harry admitted. 

‘It’s a beautiful place,’ Cho told him, ‘especially in the summer when the weather is warm and the sea is a deep blue. I was a teacher in one of the creche schools just outside of town. It was a small building, but we were near to the beach and had our own garden where we’d teach the children to grow flowers and vegetables.’ 

It was a similar picture to Harry’s own childhood - although he and Hermione had travelled to the next village over to take lessons with Ollivander, along with the other children of Hedwig’s Nest whose parents allowed them. 

‘Did you do it all on your own?’ 

‘No - there was Simon, too. He was the principal who offered me the position when I finished my apprenticeship - and then later when he asked me to marry him, I said yes.’ She smiled sweetly in remembrance, but there was a sadness there too.

‘Is he-?’ he broke off, almost knowing without needing to be told. 

‘There was a raid,’ Cho disclosed quietly. ‘They come sometimes - ships from Durmstrang. They were too quick, and the creche was too far out for the local militia to reach us in time. Simon died trying to protect me, and I was taken by the raiders and eventually sold to Rowle.’ 

Harry’s eyes brimmed with sympathy, and he didn’t need his Gift to feel her grief. 

‘We’d only been married a few months,’ Cho revealed, wiping a tear from her cheek. ‘And he’ll never see his child, either.’

‘Do...you have any other family?’ 

Cho sniffled. ‘My father...he travels the Kingdoms selling handcrafted paintings and jewellery during the summer months. He wasn’t there when I was taken. He might be home by the time we get back to Grey Lady.’

Harry nodded his encouragement of that plan, though he knew travelling almost the entire length of the Kingdoms wasn’t going to be easy in her condition. 

He felt a shift beside him and glanced over to find Cedric turning towards the conversation, a fierce expression on his face. ‘You’re free now, and I promise to look after you until you get home,’ he vowed. 

‘You’ve already helped so much,’ Cho told him, and reached over to clasp his hand. 

‘I tried to help her escape,’ Cedric explained to Harry. ‘I knew that once Rowle took us through the mountain pass into Ilvermorny we’d never make it back. At least here, someone might believe us, or hear word… after the second time, Rowle started keeping us away from people.’

‘You said last night he’d caught you at the border with Hufflepuff,’ Harry commented. 

Cedric sighed, and looked out at the scenery. ‘I was stupid… travelling alone, trusting a stranger when he said he’d help me get a job.’

‘It’s not your fault,’ Harry tried to convince him. By Cedric’s stiff shoulders, he wasn’t sure he’d succeeded. 

The Hufflepuff glanced over his shoulder towards Severus and Lucius, riding ahead of the wagon and speaking quietly to each other. ‘How is it you’re travelling with them?’

Harry sighed gustily, his own indecisiveness at that very question making his response a little short. ‘It’s…complicated,’ he said, although how well he could explain without going into detail, he wasn’t sure. ‘Let’s just say we’re unlikely companions on an adventure, and probably leave it at that.’ He gave a small shrug of apology.

‘Tell us about yourself then,’ Cho accepted his vague answer. ‘You’ve done so well with the mare.’

Harry’s mood brightened somewhat. ‘I look after the stables back home. I used to help out with the local blacksmith the next town over, and I joined him during the busy season - which in farmlands meant lots of reshoeing. Turns out I had a knack for the horses more than smithying.’

‘It sounds like you really enjoy it,’ Cho said wistfully.

‘I love it,’ Harry admitted. ‘When I was a boy I always dreamed of living on a farm and raising horses in the wild.’ 

‘You think you’ll do it?’ Cho asked, resting her chin on her arm.

Harry shook his head. ‘It was simply a dream. I’ll most likely take over the running of my parents’ tavern.’

His admission wasn’t at all regretful. He’d spoken the truth: his dreams of raising horses had merely been a dream of his at a time when he’d sought the idea of freedom. He’d grown since then, and both accepted and anticipated the day when he would run the tavern - it was his home,  no matter what Robert said about his destiny being greater than others. He would finish his task, return home either with questions answered, or not, and he’d get on with his life and think no more of it. That was all. There was nothing more to it.

And yet…part of him didn’t quite believe things would be so simple.

\- l  e r o  i -

d  e s

\- m  a s q  u e s -

 

They stopped for lunch in the early afternoon and Harry took the opportunity to stretch his legs, leaving Cho and Cedric on the bank of the river eating their meal together. He gave attention to a very pleased Raiden, and wandered over to Severus and Lucius.

‘What new tidbits have you learned of our unexpected companions?’ Severus questioned.

Harry shot him a wry look. ‘How come a conversation can’t just be a conversation?’

Severus simply arched an expectant brow.

‘Not much more than what I said last night. We talked about how they came to be with Rowle,’ he admitted.

Severus’ gaze was contemplative. ‘Is that so?’

‘He was taking them to Ilvermorny,’ Harry carried on. Harry knew a little of the Kingdoms’ history with their neighbour to the north from his childhood lessons; it was almost three times their size, but the mountains between them proved an effective border, and there had largely been peace between them - even the Dark Lord had not chosen to extend his reach to there. 

‘We are lucky to have found him, then,’ Lucius stated grimly, a shadow darkening his eyes.

Harry chose not to comment on that. ‘We’re making good progress timewise,’ he told them instead, then grimaced slightly, ‘although I can’t say that wagon is the most comfortable.’ The last stretch of road had been particularly bumpy, and he was feeling the effects of it. 

Lucius cleared his throat. ‘I thought you and Severus could swap for the afternoon. He’s happy to take charge of the wagon if you would feel comfortable riding Thanatos.’

Harry’s eyes immediately brightened as he glanced over at the gelding, almost missing the unimpressed glare Severus directed towards the blond. 

‘Can I?’ His enthusiasm for the idea was obvious, and it was not feigned; the horse was lovely, and he was keen to see the differences between his smaller, village-reared horse with a warrior’s steed.

Severus huffed a sigh. ‘Very well…as long as you do not overtire them, they would perhaps welcome the exercise.’

There was a pleased curl to Lucius’ lips. ‘If you think you can keep up.'

Harry felt an immediate rush of adrenaline at the challenge, intending to prove to Lucius he was no novice in the saddle. He could barely contain himself as he went to acquaint himself better with Severus’ horse. He knew Thanatos from grooming him in the stables, and the horse was certainly used to his touch and presence, which was an advantage, but Harry had never ridden him, and did not know his movements and behaviours as a regular rider would. It would take them a while to get used to the feel of each other, and he hoped Lucius would allow some period for adjustment.

From Lucius’ smirk whenever he looked over, he wasn’t so sure. 

Thankfully, lunch was a short affair, and although it wasn’t hurried, all of them knew that they were moving on soon so took care not to dally overmuch.

While Severus settled himself into the wagon beside Cedric, Harry mounted Thanatos, soothing the horse with a brush of his hand over its silky black neck. He appeared content enough with the change in rider and Harry nudged him forward ahead of the wagon. Lucius came to ride beside him, and gave Harry an innocent smile.

They proceeded for a few miles in which Harry became used to Thanatos’ larger size and slightly heavier gait, and thought they were progressing tolerably well.

Lucius clearly thought so too. ‘I think we could all do with a stretch,’ he suggested. ‘What say you to a small race?’

Harry glanced his way. ‘It would be fairer if I were riding Raiden than a horse I’ve never ridden before,’ he commented dryly.

‘Do you not wish to test your skills?’ Lucius asked slyly. 

Harry felt the brief prick to his pride, and even though part of him warned against falling into so easy a trap, there was interest in the challenge too. ‘All right,’ he agreed.

Lucius looked ahead, raising his hand against the sunshine as he calculated the proposed route. The road ahead was fairly straight, rising slightly about five miles down the road where the tree line ended. ‘To there,’ he determined.

Harry considered the route and deemed it fairly innocuous and manageable; it was hardly a difficult test of his horsemanship, but he agreed readily enough. While Lucius rode back to inform the others, Harry rechecked the gear, ensuring all straps and buckles were tightened correctly; he did not intend to lose due to a poorly fitted saddle.

When Lucius returned, they lined up together. Harry’s expression was determined, Lucius’ anticipatory. Lucius counted them down, and then they were off, horses galloping down the stretch of road at full pelt, hooves pounding the dirt, their riders bent low and clinging on as they raced.

Thanatos was a powerful creature, Harry had seen that immediately, and now he could feel it too, as the animal’s muscles moved beneath him, obeying the tug on his reins and the nudge of his heels. A fierce grin spread across his face, the joy he felt an immediate thing that surged along his veins almost like his magick. He glanced sideways, found that he and Lucius were almost neck and neck, the older man’s eyes narrowed in concentration as they hurtled along the path.

As the finish line neared, Harry used all his might and persuasion to coax Thanatos forward, and felt a surge of triumph when he began to pull ahead of Lucius. Fifty metres…twenty metres...and he was going to win, he just knew it, and it would serve Lucius right for being so smug about it all. 

Ten metres… 

There came a shout from behind him, a word which Harry didn’t recognise, but Thanatos certainly did, for the gelding dug his hooves into the earth in a sudden halt, and Harry was thrown abruptly forwards in the saddle, barely holding onto the reins as his chest slammed against Thanatos’ neck with enough force to leave him winded. 

When he managed to catch his breath and look ahead, Lucius was already drawing Charon back across their impromptu finish line, doing nothing to hide the satisfied gleam in his eyes. 

‘That was cheating!’ he accused.

Lucius came to a stop beside him, reaching down to pat Thanatos. ‘Was it?’

Harry teetered a moment on the edge of anger, the adrenaline still pumping through him - before he let it fizzle away; arguing just wasn’t worth it. It took a moment, but he managed a rueful smile. ‘I should have expected that from a Slytherin.’

Lucius threw his head back and let out a full throated laugh. It was the first time he’d seen Lucius look so...happy. If it was at the expense of Harry’s wounded pride, so be it; he could take it. 

Amusement still curled Lucius’ lips and lit his eyes. ‘You Gryffindors with your antiquated notions of fairness.’

It could have been derisive, but there was something almost wistful about Lucius’ tone that soothed over the insult. 

‘Someone has to do it,’ Harry told him jokingly. 

Another huff of laughter from Lucius, and Harry had to wonder what it was he saw when he looked at him. Something noble, or just a fool? He wasn’t to find out then, as Lucius glanced back the way they’d come. 

‘Shall we continue?’

‘No more racing,’ Harry protested, and Lucius smirked.

‘No more,’ he agreed, and pressed his heels to urge Charon into a canter. 

Beneath him, Thanatos pawed at the ground, eager to join his companion. Harry held no resentment towards the animal - he had only done as he had been trained to. ‘Come on, then,’ he encouraged, and began the chase anew. 

He and Lucius rode the warhorses for a while longer, before they returned to the others, whereupon Harry and Severus traded places once more.

‘Didn’t think to warn me what he had planned?’ Harry grumbled, only half meaning it. He’d never expect Severus to take any side but Lucius’. 

‘If you think me privy to all of Lucius’ thoughts, you have very much overestimated my abilities,’ he drawled. ‘Besides, you seem...intact, so I can only assume you handled yourself well enough.’

‘Ha, ha,’ was Harry’s only response as he scooped up the wagon’s leads, watching Severus mount up. 

It was an unusual predicament he found himself in -  that he was coming to be friends with two Death Eaters. 

He was very aware of his past words to Lucius, and it was an odd thing to find that  _ yes _ , while he would always despise those that did the Dark Lord’s bidding, it was not fair of him to think all Death Eaters were the same.

Some more of that Gryffindor sentimentality, he thought with amusement, and if only Lucius knew the whole truth of it.

 

  
\- l  e r o  i -

d  e s

\- m  a s q  u e s -

 

As predicted, they reached Ottery St. Catchpole late that night after a long day’s ride, with everyone grateful to be able to rest. The town itself had been built on opposite banks of a river, a bridge spanning between to connect the two halves, and the buildings were a combination of wood and stone, the main street cobbled, but the alleys leading from it little more than packed earth. It wasn’t hard to find the nearest tavern, dubiously named  _ The Leaky Cauldron, _ thankfully near the edge of town and one of the few buildings still lit.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief as he brought the wagon to a halt in the small courtyard which served as an entrance to the inn. In front of him, Lucius dismounted as the door opened and an elderly man exited the building, shuffling forward to greet them. It became quickly apparent he was the innkeeper, if the apron covering his white shirt hadn’t been enough indication. ‘Evenin’ folks,’ he greeted them. ‘Lookin’ to stay the night?’

Despite his age, his eyes were shrewd as he appraised the group, skipping over Cedric and Cho’s bedraggled appearances, lingering on the Death Eaters, and then coming to rest on Harry - and his eyes widened slightly, though he was quick to cover it. 

He couldn’t mask his shock from Harry’s Gift, however, and the Wolf rose inside him, its wariness bleeding through to Harry and leaving him on edge. 

‘We require lodging for the night, yes, although two of our number will stay on longer - if you can accommodate it,’ Lucius informed him. 

‘I think we can work something out. There’s room for the wagon round the side, and there’s stalls for the horses out back.’ The man’s eyes drifted back to Harry as if unable to help himself, and Harry couldn’t help but stiffen, only relaxing when he turned his attention back to Lucius. 

‘That will be acceptable,’ Lucius confirmed. 

‘Come on in when you’ve sorted yourselves,’ the man continued, turning to head back inside. He glanced back over his shoulder, giving them a smile that revealed more than one missing tooth. ‘Just ask for Tom.’

With that he was gone; no one moved for a moment, all attentions fixed on the front door.

‘Well,’ Lucius commented, but couldn’t seem to finish his thought. 

‘We’ll discuss it later,’ Severus said sharply, and took charge of organising them. ‘Lucius, take Cho inside and make sure she’s settled. Cedric, come with me and we’ll deal with the wagon. Harry, take the rest of the horses to the stalls, if you please.’

While Lucius did as he was bid and escorted Cho inside, Harry shook himself into movement, easing down from the wagon and reaching over to untie Ceres from the back before crossing over the courtyard to gather the other warhorses. 

Severus appeared pensive as he handed over Thanatos’ reins. ‘I’ll bring Raiden to you once we’ve settled the wagon.’

Harry nodded and set off in the direction Tom had pointed to, leading the three horses behind him. He was grateful to get away from the others, even for  few brief moments, so he could try and regain his composure.

Tom had unsettled him, there was no doubt about that, and his thoughts were racing as he tried to understand what the odd man’s reaction to him could mean. 

He found the stalls easily enough: a large wooden shed with a few dividing beams to separate the horses. It wasn’t  _ The Gryffin’s Claw _ , that was for sure, but there was plenty of hay and the water troughs were full. Just inside the door sat a skinny boy with a blanket around his shoulder and a flagon by his side, holding a short stick - the watch, Harry presumed with an inward grimace. 

Harry led the horses inside and began the process of stabling them, removing their tack and rubbing them down with handfuls of hay. 

It wasn’t long before his Gift alerted him to Severus’ approach, and the older man took care of Raiden while Harry checked over the mare’s wounds once more. When they were finished, Severus threw the boy a few coins; he caught them deftly and doffed his cap as they passed. 

Outside, Severus turned towards him, and Harry came to a stop, knowing what he was about to ask, and dreading it. 

‘You said you’ve not come this far north before.’ His tone was even, his black eyes assessing.

‘I haven’t,’ Harry replied honestly. He could only give as much of the truth as he could and hope the Slytherin believed him, but with questions of his own, he wasn’t sure how successful he would be. 

‘And yet he seemed to know you,’ Severus continued. 

Harry gave a quick shake of his head. ‘I’ve not seen him before in my life, I swear it.’

He could feel Severus’ suspicions like a shadow across his face, and his frustration at the situation he’d put himself in was a sour taste in his throat. Severus had good reason to distrust him, but he couldn’t deny that it pained him. 

Some of his feelings must have shown on his face; Severus let out a soft sigh. ‘I know you have secrets,’ he said softly, ‘but our safety must come first - unless that is not your wish.’

Harry felt a pang at the Slytherin’s words, and he put in all the sincerity he could as he told him, ‘Severus, if I thought you were in danger, I would tell you. Please trust me on that. I wouldn’t knowingly put you at risk - or Cedric or Cho.’ He took a sharp breath, for it was difficult for him to admit - ‘I have secrets, yes, but knowing this man is not one of them.’

Severus held his gaze for a long moment, before he gave a decisive nod. ‘Very well.’

Harry felt immediate relief - that Severus trusted him, that he wasn’t going to ask further about his secrets - for it seemed he knew how hard sharing that much was for Harry. 

‘He showed more interest in us than those two,’ Severus continued, his expression serious, ‘but it was you who caught his attention, Harry. Don’t wander alone,’ he warned, and wasn’t satisfied until Harry gave his agreement. ‘Let’s get back for now; we need to speak with Lucius.’

They were silent as they made their way back to the inn, entering through the front door and pausing briefly in the entrance as they took stock. 

Harry cast his eyes over the crowded room: almost all glanced towards them in a way Harry was used to - the patrons taking in any newcomers - but while most turned their attentions back to their conversations and drinks, there were a few around the room whose attention they held. His Gift rushed out and pinpointed the red-haired boy around Harry’s age sitting and drinking with a group in the corner; an older man at the bar whose amber eyes widened dramatically before he jerked his gaze away at a hissed word from his companion; and again, Tom, serving drinks at the bar. 

He didn’t like it at all.

‘Let’s find our rooms,’ Severus murmured to him, and took his arm to lead him in the direction of the stairs. 

Lucius answered the door with his hand on his sword-hilt. He shot a glance to Harry, then looked at Severus; the black-haired man gave a small shake of his head.

Lucius moved aside to let them enter, and Harry saw Cho and Cedric sitting at the small table within their suite of rooms. Despite their tiredness, they too had picked up that something was amiss. 

As Lucius locked the door behind them, Harry moved to lean against the window, crossing his arms over his chest. The Wolf still prowled inside his mind, and his Gift was reacting to his unease, a prickle under his skin. 

‘Well?’ Lucius directed towards Severus. 

‘It is too late to move on now. We should be safe for tonight if we take precautions. Eat and drink only what we ourselves brought with us, and no one is to leave this room alone. We will all share this room for tonight so we can maintain watch.’ He turned to Cedric. ‘We shall decide in the morning if it safe for you two to remain here - it is we who have caught their attention for now.’

They had questions, that was obvious, but they accepted Severus’ conditions. While Cho settled herself in the only bed and Cedric got as comfortable as he could on a small sofa by the fire, the Slytherins and Harry unpacked their bedrolls. 

‘I shall take first watch,’ Lucius announced.

Harry’s throat was tight as he prepared himself for bed. Part of him had always known it was a dangerous game he was playing, and the closer they got to Godric’s Hollow, the more the risks increased.

There would come a point where he would have to make a difficult decision - and he did not think his secrets would survive it. 

Until then, he would do what he could to keep them safe. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those interested, here's a link to the horses in LeRoi so far! Pictures and Name meanings.
> 
> https://nimohtar.tumblr.com/post/175317178638/the-horses-of-le-roi-des-masques 
> 
> Next chapter! Harry faces further suspicion, and The Order makes an appearance.


End file.
